In Another Life
by LanLanChan
Summary: The best thing I ever did was falling in love with Draco Malfoy, against everyone's wishes. The worst thing I ever did was leaving him because of what others said. What if I didn't let him go that one day? What if I had ran back to him instead of leaving?
1. Author's Note and Prologue

The Author's Bitchin' Note of Amazing Introductions and VERY Important Information

**WAIT. Don't skip this. If you do then you will be raptured and squirrels will attack you and your family.**

Now that I have your attention (I hope) I would like to tell you a few things. I'll try to keep this as short as possible, because who likes reading those excruciatingly long Author's Notes anyways?

So, now to a semi-proper introduction:

Hello, readers! Thank you for taking the time to read this. It means a lot to me, as I put much of my free time into writing fanfics and thinking up scenarios and stuff.

This is my first official fanfic, and I hope it's good enough for y'all! This is going to be a Harry Potter: Dramione fanfiction. It is classified under Romance/Drama, but it'll also have some simple humor in it so that it's not all depressing or angsty, or whatever. I will put it under the rating "M" for now, just in case. I'm not going to venture deep into smut territory; you can find other fanfics for that. I feel like the only sex that can be accurately described in vigorous detail is bad sex—which does the characters no justice. And I have no intention of writing bad sex. I am not going to tarnish the wonderfulness of Draco and Hermione, bitches!

I'm going to bend the story a little bit in places—okay, a lot bit—mostly in the sixth book (Half-Blood Prince). Truth be told, I didn't quite like that one all that much, so alterations will be the most grandiose in that time span. I am also changing a bit of the seventh book (Deathly Hallows) and the whole epilogue that J.K. Rowling wrote; kind of EWE but not entirely so (you'll see later ;) )

I am also adding some characters here and there to amp up the story a bit, **BUT WAIT:** fear not, they are **not** OCs. When I'm reading a fanfic and the author introduces an original character without saying beforehand that one will be in the story, it pisses me off. I picked up your story to read about the characters you promised would be in there, not some Mafonksha Billihiggins that turns out to be Dumbledore's secret wife's twice removed sister's cousin from Yugoslavia or some platypus-shit like that. No, the characters I'll include will be from the Harry Potter World, like those who have already graduated or something. So far I have included only one, who I'm sure you'll be able to figure out right away, and maybe another or two, but not that likely. There are enough characters in the story already to make this work and the world go round. Again, please don't be alarmed that things don't quite go according to the story, but hey, that's what fanfics are for in the first place.

I will try my best to make this as believable as possible, as I hate it when one second the characters (who are supposed to hate each other) hate each other and then BAM they love each other (when they are still supposed to hate each other… for Chrissake) and want to bear each other's children. It's tempting to rush into it, as that's one of the best parts of the story, but restrain is key.

I own absolutely nothing in Harry Potter except for the plot idea that I came up with on my own. I am, very obviously, not J.K. Rowling in a disguise or anything of the sort. If I were, then I'd be very rich, blah blah blah; everyone else already covered that "If I were actually J.K. Rowling…" turf.

Reviews and comments: always appreciated. Please refrain from raging/hating/griefing, but **constructive** criticism is gladly accepted. Note the emphasis on the word constructive. I don't like it when people just trash talk someone's work without giving them any advice or ways they could improve their story. The point of reviewing or commenting is not to insult people, it's for helping your fellow writers. But praise and compliments are definitely welcome! :D I thank every compliment I get (if I will get any.. This is my first one, after all) with joy-ness equal to that of a thousand dying stars.

Hopefully that wasn't too long of a note there, I'm sorry if it was. Bollocks, it totally was. (Just looked back on it… Wow I'm such a BITCH! This is way too long what the shit.) I hope you haven't ripped your eyeballs out by now because you hate to read long things like this. I'm so sorry, I just fail at keeping my "I won't make this long" promise. It seems I am an unintentional liar.

If it is "too late to apologize" (love that song) then I beg for your forgiveness and offer you many elaborate baskets of fresh produce from the best supermarkets across the world to express my remorse (but only if you actually read every sentence to the end, you produce-hungry scallywags!). Anyways, thanks again, and if this were in person I would be shaking your hand till your arm was ripped out of its socket. Now that your arm is dislocated, or at least detached from the rest of yourself:

Enjoy the story!

With [copious amounts of] love,

Lan-Lan Chan

Prologue

I was perfectly happy, yet I wasn't content. I wore a smile on the outside that was only skin deep. My life was wonderful, yet at the same time it had an underlying sense of disturbance. I was happy in a way that also made me quite sad at the same time; it's as if I was a living contradiction.

One of the hardest things in life is being at war with yourself. Such a strong part of you believes in one way, but there is another part equally as powerful that feels the total opposite. There is no such thing as a middle ground, no such thing as a compromise, no such thing as a singed treaty that puts the opponents at ease. It's either one side gives up the battle, but that doesn't necessarily mean that the winning side will come out in a victory. In a war, there are always casualties on both sides; mental unrest is no different than a confrontation in the physical form. You don't see the bruises or cuts on the outside, but you sure feel them on the inside—wounds that stay open long and leave deep scars.

I held the coffee mug close to my chest, the hot outsides just cool enough to touch, steam rising into the early morning air. I'm wide-awake, sitting in a porch chair outside of my house, listening to the sound of the wind in the pines and the soft cooing of the doves. I absent-mindedly finger the hem of my old, worn, jade green sweater, so long that it drapes very slightly over my legs. I test the heat of the coffee. Still too hot, I set it down on my lap.

It's five in the morning, and I'm the only one up. Rose and Hugo are still sleeping soundly; they don't have to get up for another two hours and a half. Ron is also completely knocked out, so much so that he didn't even notice me get up. I smile slightly at the thought of him sprawled across the bed, his red hair everywhere like fire, and his freckled face deep in unconscious thought.

I turn back to my coffee and test it; it's perfect temperature. The French roast, my favorite kind, seems bitter, more bitter than usual… Or was that just my imagination? Bitter… What a strange word. Leave it on its own and it simply means something distasteful and unpleasant. Combine it with its opposite and suddenly it turns into something else, something of many layers, something that can barely be described in words other than a true contradiction. Bittersweet. Like a happy ending, but one that was achieved with tears and hardships and regrets…

I look out to the horizon, clear from our house on the grassy hill. The dark blue of night slowly fades to light oranges and yellows in a beautiful cascade of vibrant pastels, casting their light over the city.

Bittersweet, I think to myself.

I rest my head on my shoulder and stare at the sky, looking at nothing in particular as my mind begins to wander off, going back in time to the craziest, happiest, and most confusing moments of my life, back to the time when I was just sixteen…


	2. Chapter 1

"Ow," I hissed, blood seeping from a small puncture wound in my finger. I put it in my mouth, the metallic taste on my tongue. I looked up to see Ron laughing at me.

"Nice, you managed to prick yourself on your Head Girl pin. Fantastic, Hermione," he said, still cracking up. I huffed at him.

"You should talk, you're a lot more clumsy than I am," I retorted.

He shrugged. "Maybe, but not as much as Neville," he said, smiling.

Harry leaned over, trying to see the wound. "You alright?" He asked, a little worried.

"Harry, this is nothing. I'm fine," I said, pulling out my wand. Within a moment it was healed, and I decided to put the badge on later. I had a feeling that I might be stuck in a pocket of clumsiness, and that if I tried again I might stab my eye—not as fixable as the tip of my finger.

The food cart lady came by to our compartment a second later, filling the room with the sweet smell of chocolate and pumpkin. Ron licked his lips and Harry brought out a bag of Galleons, eager for some Butterbeer or maybe even a Cockroach Cluster, if he was feeling ambitious. By the time she was gone, the cabin was filled with sweets, and they were stuffing their faces.

"Miss breakfast, Ron, Harry?" I said while eating a chocolate bar.

"Nah," they both said. "Just didn't get enough," Ron added with a grin.

I laughed and looked out the window, watching the passing landscape of the heart of England: rolling green hills illuminated by pockets of sunshine where the clouds parted, rivers cutting through the underbrush, and large boulders proudly marking their presence in sharp angles and deep grays. I looked back at Harry and Ron, and they stopped eating when they looked at me. I furrowed my brow.

"What?" I asked. Ron grinned and Harry bit his lip.

"Nothing, Hermione," he chortled.

"Yeah, you look great," Ron added. "Delicious," he said, and they both started cracking up.

I blushed a little and rolled my eyes for effect. "What's bitten you two?" I said quizzically. Then suddenly I remembered the pin in my pocket. "Oh, you guys, I have to go to the Head cabin. I should be there already," I said, glancing at my watch. "I wonder who Head Boy is…" I said as I opened the door.

They didn't say anything, but I noticed them trying to stifle laughter.

"Well, good bye then," I said somewhat sarcastically, annoyed that they wouldn't tell me what was going on. The moment I shut the door I heard them start to laugh with reckless abandon. Too much Butterbeer, I suppose.

I made my way down the corridor to the Head cabin. Everyone I passed looked at me, and I felt like they were about to start laughing like Harry and Ron. I pushed the thought aside; after all, I made sure I looked great that morning, meaning that I put on a little more makeup than usual and wore my pretty new flats that I had bought at a Muggle department store. I tried to give myself the benefit of the doubt that I just looked so smashing, but that didn't sound very probable judging from everyone's reactions.

I was so deep in thought, trying to figure out what was going on, that I was barely even looking where I was going when I recklessly opened up the door the Head cabin. As I stepped, the train lurched for a moment, and suddenly I felt myself falling, a cry of surprise escaping my lips. I expected to hit the hardwood floor of the train cabin, but instead I hit something else entirely, something sturdy but soft, something that smelled unexpectedly wonderful. I opened my eyes—I guess I had them closed while I was falling—and noticed that someone had caught me mid-fall. I looked up expectantly.

Pale skin. Light blond hair. Stormy gray eyes. Draco Malfoy.

I didn't know what to say. He was the last person I would've expected to catch my fall and the first person I thought would simply step aside and let me eat it.

Strangely, though, he didn't look at me with hatred. There was something else in his facial expression, in his eyes, that said otherwise: something like wonder mixed with a little bit of pain, and another emotion that I couldn't decipher…

"Get off, Granger," he hissed, all traces of emotion gone in a split second. He pushed me off onto the burgundy velvet couch and I plopped down on it. "About time you realized that you were supposed to be here. You're nearly ten minutes late." He closed the door roughly, the glass rattling in the frame.

"It's just ten minutes," I said. "Is that such a big deal?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right, it isn't," he said. "Because you really aren't a big deal at all, mudblood." He sat down opposite me and crossed his arms.

I sighed in frustration. What ever that was that I saw in him when he caught me was completely gone, replaced by his usual self, if it was ever actually there… Maybe I was just imaging it; maybe I had too much Butterbeer like Harry and Ron.

I looked up at him. He was looking away. "You didn't have to catch me, you know. I can handle myself," I asserted, crossing my arms.

He sneered at me. "I didn't catch you, mudblood, you fell on me," he scoffed. "And by the way, I don't think you can handle yourself if you didn't even realize that you have chocolate smeared all over your face."

I gasped. So that was why everyone was giving me weird looks as I walked through the train… My very first day as Head Girl, and I had looked like an idiotic fool in front of everyone who was oblivious to the condition of her own face. I quickly tried to wipe it off with the sleeve of my gray sweater, but I didn't know where it was.

"Granger," Draco said, leaning forward from the opposite side of the small cabin, "are you sure you can take care of yourself?"

I stopped frantically clawing at my face and looked up. He lifted a pale finger in front of me and then put it on my face. For some unfathomable reason, my heart stopped.

"Right…" He paused for dramatic effect. "There." He finished, poking my cheek with a lot more force than he needed to use.

"Ow, what the hell Malfoy!" I said, my voice rising. I rubbed at it, a dull pain coming from where he poked me.

He laughed and grinned evilly, sitting back. "At least you're getting it off now, mudblood," he said.

I heaved an irritated sigh. "I'd thank you if you weren't such a heartless brat," I countered. He just kicked his feet up onto the seat next to me and looked out the window and stretched, as if I hadn't said anything at all.

"The ward is going to come around soon to give us instructions. The basic stuff." He said casually, as if had been a Prefect every day of his life.

"Basic…?" I asked.

"Last time I checked, you were at the top of the class, Granger," he said offhandedly. "I assumed that you would know."

"You checked that? I didn't know you cared," I snorted.

"I don't," he said. "You know, herding the little first years around, getting them on the boats and stuff, and then leading them to the Great Hall…" He trailed off, seemingly deep in thought. I just nodded, not wanting to interrupt or talk to him any longer. Part of me couldn't bear the thought of even having to spend time with Draco, but another part of me was curious as to why my heart had convulsed when he touched my cheek, why he looked so different when I fell into him…

I combed a strand of hair behind my ear. I had to concentrate on the task at hand and not let these stupid first-day nerves get a hold of me.

I sighed and looked out the window again, trying to concentrate on the land zooming by. But for some reason, I still couldn't get those other intrusive thoughts and second-guesses out of my head, like the leaky faucet dripping constantly, a nagging knowledge that wouldn't go away.


	3. Chapter 2

When we got off the Hogwarts Express, it was just like first year all over again, exciting and a little bit nerve-racking, except this time I was the one leading the newcomers. Without a word, Malfoy headed towards the boats, and I followed along through the crowd, holding the parchment that gave the basic directions of the duties of Head Girl and Boy. The water was dark, reflecting the night sky, my shoes slightly clacking on the hard rock beneath.

"First years, over here," Malfoy said loudly. His voice carried over the commotion and the small first years came rushing towards him. They crowded around him like little bugs, so much so that he was forced to keep his arms above the fray to be able to move them around at all. He had an annoyed look on his face that made it hard not to laugh at him.

"Having fun with the _basic_ stuff yet?" I said just loud enough so that he could hear me. He rolled his eyes.

"Keep your witty comments to yourself, mud—Granger," he said, quickly correcting himself. If the first years heard that, no doubt he would get in a heap of trouble.

"Hey, 'Ermione!" A booming voice called from behind me. I smiled and gave Hagrid a hug. "Head Girl, eh?"

"Nice to see you, Hagrid," I said. He looked as rugged and wild as ever, his bushy beard frizzy and all over the place. "Yeah, this should be fun," I added.

He gave me a confused look and bent down to my head level. "Really? Even with that Malfoy gi't as Head Boy? Yer gonna have a lot of workin' to do," he said in a not-so-hushed-voice. I resisted the urge to laugh as Malfoy looked over, a scowl on his face.

"Okay, yer first years," Hagrid said. "I know everyone's takin' the carriages, but yeh little ones get to take a special ride over the lake," he said, smiling. "Come on, get on the boats," he said, ushering them on. Some of the first years were looking at Hagrid with wonder and delight, but many were somewhat intimidated and frightened. Malfoy, on the other hand, wore his usual frown. We watched as Hagrid climbed into the biggest boat behind some first years, who were all chattering excitedly amongst themselves, marveling as the boats began to move on their own in the water.

"Make sure yeh check that there ain't none left behind," he said. "Then you two get on that last boat over there," he said, pointing to his right. I nodded.

"Thanks, Hagrid," I said as I made my way over to the boat. Draco dusted off invisible dust from his clothes and followed.

"Damn little first years," he said. "They're like termites or something. I could barely move."

I chuckled at his discomfort. "Enjoying yourself?" I asked sarcastically as I climbed into the boat.

"Watch it, Granger," he said. "Or you might accidentally fall in."

I ignored his little comment about falling in and sat down in the boat, waiting for him to get in. Once he was seated I tapped the stern of the boat with my wand and it set off.

It started off slowly and steadily plowing through the water before reaching a decent speed. As it stabilized, I turned my gaze up, finding this as a great opportunity to look at the sky. The stars were so beautiful, twinkling against the black velvet of night. I leaned back a little, against the left side of the boat, admiring the nightscape. I was so entranced that I didn't notice Malfoy lean over to me. He pushed my shoulder back towards the water.

"Ooh, careful Granger!" He said maliciously. He was obviously trying to startle me, but he didn't realize that he pushed me a bit too hard. I lost my balance and with a scream I fell backwards into the water.

"Oh, shit!" He exclaimed, looking over the edge of the boat.

After a few seconds of confusion, my head broke the surface. The water was ice-cold.

"Malfoy!" I yelled, struggling to stay above water. "What in bloody hell was that for?"

He was staring at me, his mouth open. The boat was still moving, and it was already at least five meters away from me.

"Stop the boat!" I yelled. After a moment of hesitation, he brought out his wand and tapped the front of the boat so hard that I thought his wand would break. It stopped moving. "W-why did you do that!"

"I didn't-You weren't supposed—" He swore in frustration. "Why did you fall in!" He yelled back.

"Because you p-pushed me, y-you idiot!" It was getting harder to keep my head above the water surface as my legs and arms got more and more tired. Each shore was much too far away and the water was obviously very deep. On top of that, who knew what could be in here?

"Granger, swim back, come on," he said, motioning with his right hand, the other clutching the edge of the boat as he leaned over.

I shook my head. "Malfoy, I-I can't s-swim," I said, panicking. The cold was getting to me, I could tell. My breathing quickened as fear began settling into my veins.

"Ruddy hell, why can't you swim?" He said in disbelief.

"M-M-Malfoy," I gasped, my head going under for a second. "P-please, h-help me," I begged. I couldn't hold myself above the surface for much longer.

I saw his eyes grow wide in fear.

"Oh, shit," he said. "Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Listen, just keep your head above the water, okay? I—I'll do something," he said, frantically looking around.

"M-Malfoy," I panted. I coughed as some water entered my lungs. My limbs were dangerously weak now and threatened to fail on me.

He bit his lip for a second before he took off his robe, sweater, his shirt, and his shoes and socks, throwing them down on the boat. Then he dove gracefully into the water. That was the last I saw before my arms and legs went limp and I slipped under.

I was sinking. The light, what little there was from the small lantern on the far off boat and from the stars, was fading slowly, getting farther away. I was going to drown and sink to the bottom of the lake, gripped by the cold and unforgiving water. I wanted to scream as more water entered my lungs, and I realized that this very well might be how I was going to die. I closed my eyes.

I felt a slight wave of water and a pair of arms wrap around me, pulling me up towards the surface. I opened my eyes for a brief moment. The light was getting closer and closer, until finally I was above the surface again. I could feel some water coming out of my mouth, but I didn't have control over my body and I wasn't actually conscious. My eyes were open, and I could see, but I couldn't move them. I still couldn't breathe. It was like I was alive and dead at the same time.

"Come on, Granger, stay with me," Draco said as he made his way back to the boat, swimming as fast as he could while carrying my weight along with his. "Stay with me, Granger," he said.

After a little while I felt myself get lifted over the side of the boat, and then I felt it rock a bit as I saw Draco lift himself over. He didn't look cold at all; the adrenalin must be keeping him warm. He rushed over to me and put his hands on my face.

"Shit, I don't know any spells to help with this kind of situation," he swore. "God damn it," he said. He started pushing my chest, trying to get the water out of my lungs. I felt my head just roll to the side, and he sat up and ran a hand through his hair nervously, biting his lip.

"Damn it, Granger," he said quietly. Then he leaned over and put his mouth on mine.

I thought that would have jolted me to attention, and it should have. I never, not in my wildest imagination, _ever_ thought that Draco Malfoy would try so hard to save my life as to do this. He proceeded to push my chest again, his wet blond hair falling around his face, dripping water everywhere. Then he leaned down and breathed into my mouth again.

"Please, Hermione," he begged. Even barely conscious, my brain was able to register what he had said. _He called me by my first name?_ "Not now. Not like this," he said in the most sincere and caring voice I assumed he had ever used. I saw him wipe his eyes quickly. Was he just getting water out of his eyes, or was he wiping away _tears_?

Draco did mouth-to-mouth again, and then held my face in his hands. I felt drops of cold water fall onto my face, followed by a warm one, then two. He was crying, desperately pushing on my chest to try and make me regain consciousness.

Then, slowly but surely, I noticed the feeling slowly going back into my limbs, making it's way to my chest. I jolted up, hacking and coughing, my lungs burning. He stared at me for a long time as I coughed, trying to get the water out of my lungs. I saw him look away for a moment, wiping his eyes, hoping that I didn't notice. Finally, my breathing went somewhat back to normal, but my throat still ached.

"Draco, I… W-what…" I asked hoarsely.

He paused for a long time, running his hands through his wet hair again.

"You know, it was a good thing I knew that spell, that I knew how to draw the water out of your lungs," he said, looking away. "Otherwise I wouldn't have known what to do."

I didn't say anything. He had thought that I was unconscious the entire time and I didn't see what he did for me. He thought that I didn't see him cry. I noticed color in his cheeks, but I stayed quiet. He obviously didn't want me to know what had happened while I was "dead," and truth be told, I was a little scared myself to face the facts. I wrapped my arms around my shoulders, which I noticed had started shaking slightly.

"…"

"…"

We sat in silence for a while in the still boat. He was clutching his hands and avoiding my eyes.

"T-Thanks," I whispered, breaking the silence. "Thank you s-so m-much." I reached for my wand and realized that my hands were trembling uncontrollably.

"Wait."

I stopped and looked up at him, my teeth chattering. He reached over and took off my robe, putting it to the side, and proceeded to do the same with my sweater. Then he started taking my tank top off.

"Wha—" I raised my shaking hands to try and move his hands away.

"Don't," he said sternly but quietly. "Don't worry."

For some reason, I put my hands down and decided that I was too cold and shaken to care, even though I wasn't wearing anything but my bra underneath. There was a part of me that was warning me, reminding me that this was Draco Malfoy, my mortal enemy from the very first year at Hogwarts. And yet there was a side that wanted to trust him and was willing to do so, even (or rather especially) under the present circumstances.

He stopped and bit his lip for a moment before reaching behind himself, pulling out his own sweater and robe.

Without a word, he put the dark green sweater over me—it was much bigger than I was, so it wasn't too hard to get it on—then he put the traditional school cloak around my shoulders, his own Slytherin cloak. And all the while he was wearing that same look that he had when I ran into him on the train, that unidentifiable mixture of emotions. Once he got it on, he turned away.

I looked at him for a long time, but he refused to return my gaze.

"T-thank you," I said in a hushed tone. He gave no indication that he had heard me. I shakily took out my wand and tapped the front of the boat, and it slowly started moving. I lay down on the floor of the boat and closed my eyes.

After about ten minutes, my breathing had steadied and I felt much warmer. I was somewhat comfortable here on the boat, under the stars, over the water.

I felt a hand touch my shoulder, and I kept my eyes closed. He must've thought that I was asleep. Draco's hand wasn't trembling like mine had been, even though he was barely wearing anything. Then he drew his hand away slowly and I heard him sigh.

"You said you could handle yourself. You can't handle yourself at all."

Then he said something I couldn't make out; I was too confused to think, my mind focused on trying to figure what in the past had warranted such a dramatic change in his character as the one that had just occurred. He had saved my life.

I didn't dare open my eyes, so I just kept them closed. The rest of the trip was silent, the only witness to the incident the silent stars above.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Granger, wake the hell up," I heard from behind me. Draco was prodding me in the shoulder. Little did he know that I was never asleep, but he didn't have to be aware of that.

"Mmf?" I pretended to sit up groggily and look around. The boat was just coming up to dock. I had a slight headache, and my lungs weren't much better, but I could finally think somewhat straight. In a snap I realized that we were very, _very_ late.

"Oh bollocks," I swore. "Dra-Malfoy, we're really late, aren't we…"

He slapped his hand to his forehead and cursed.

"All because you had to go and almost drown," he said, irritated. "Now I'm going to get in a hell of a lot of trouble because you go jumping in the lake for a nice little swim," he scoffed.

Obviously, all traces of his drastically different manner from earlier was all but gone. He was his usual old self, seemingly devoid of all compassion and empathy. I wasn't sure whether I was glad or not; the other side I saw of him was so different from what I was used to that I was a little frightened.

"For the last time, Malfoy, I didn't fall in or jump in. You kind of pushed me, remember?" I retorted.

"I'd rather not," he said, getting out of the boat the moment it hit the wooden dock. "Come on, if McGonagall doesn't behead us for this…"

I groaned to myself angrily. How was it possible for him to change so fast? I started to wonder if what happened back at the lake was all just some crazy dream, but as I got out of the boat the squishing of my wet shoes on the dock and the dragging of his long cloak on the ground reminded me otherwise. I picked up my wet clothes and wrung them out. There was no time for a drying spell right now; that would have to wait. By the time I looked up, he was already half the distance to the entrance corridor as he turned around and furiously waved his arm at me. I rolled my eyes and ran down the rocky hall, carrying my sopping clothes, his robe billowing behind me. I felt like a superhero from Muggle movies, except drenched, confused, and stupidly un-heroic.

After a long, excruciating run down the hall that left my lungs burning, I caught up to him right as I rounded the corner and accidentally smashed into him from behind.

"Watch it, Granger," he hissed. "That's no way to act like a Prefect in front of the new students." He had that signature Malfoy smirk on his face again.

Ignoring him, I sighed in relief upon seeing that the first years still hadn't entered the Great Hall for sorting yet. Professor McGonagall, however, did not look pleased in the slightest at our entrance. She strode over to where we were, enraged. The smirk disappeared from Malfoy's face instantly.

"Malfoy! And you too, Granger! What happened? I have never had such a disappointing first day from any Prefects in the history of my teaching career," she fumed. There was a slight pause as she glared at us. "Well? What kept you for so long that you are about ten minutes late?"

I saw Draco look at me for a second, obviously not knowing what to say.

"Professor, I'm incredibly sorry, but…" I indicated my clothes. "I fell into the water, and I don't know how to swim. Malfoy here saved me from almost drowning."

Both Malfoy and Professor McGonagall stared at me, both of them in surprise: Malfoy obviously thought that I wouldn't have taken the blame for it, and McGonagall must've thought that this was some kind of joke. Even she knew that there was a certain no-man's land between the Golden Trio and Malfoy's posse.

"Is that so, Mister Malfoy?" She said, turning to him. He snapped back to attention and nodded slowly.

"Yes, Professor, that's true," he said uncertainly. " I did."

McGonagall just stood there for a moment, still in disbelief. She looked from me to him and sighed.

"Well, I guess that's a reasonable… explanation for your tardiness," she said, lips taut. "But still borderline unacceptable. Do you need to go to the hospital ward?"

I shook my head no. This wasn't anything I couldn't handle until bedtime.

"Please try not to drown anymore, Miss Granger," she huffed, obviously still skeptical of the truth. "Now go, you have to lead the first years."

Malfoy walked over to the group of eleven-year-olds, and I was about to follow when McGonagall stopped me.

"Miss Granger," she said in her signature tone, "if you expect to go out into the Great Hall dripping went wearing… Is that a Slytherin robe?" She said in disbelief upon realizing that the emblem on it was a green snake. I opened my mouth and closed it, realizing that I was still wearing Malfoy's robe. I looked over at him and he ran his hand through his hair nervously.

"Is that _Malfoy's_ robe?" The Professor exclaimed, turning to look at him. He looked away quickly, and I noticed his cheeks turning red. "If you think you are going out there as a Gryffindor wearing that, you must be daft. You'll be disowned from your clan," she said after she regained her composure. She whipped out her wand and within moments all my clothes were dry. It felt so much better to have dry clothes again.

"Thank you, Professor," I smiled weakly. She nodded curtly, the look of bewilderment not gone from her face, and led me towards the door as I followed behind, meeting up with Malfoy at the top of the stairs. I noticed McGonagall look over at Malfoy's wet trousers, but she just smirked slightly and didn't bother to do anything about it. I suppressed the urge to give her a high-five or something of the sort.

"I'll take that," Malfoy said, slipping his robe off of my shoulders from behind and putting it over his arm. "And that," he said, trying to take off the sweater. I gasped as his fingers touched the bare skin on my back.

"Malfoy!" I hissed. "I can't really change right now, I'm not wearing anything underneath."

He stopped for a moment before that trademark smirk appeared on his face again. He leaned down close to my ear.

"So? I don't care," He whispered in a sultry voice.

I felt my heart rate go crazy. I couldn't think of a clever retort for the first time in my life, it's like my tongue was tied in a knot. He was my enemy, and I wasn't supposed to get butterflies when he whispered naughty things in my ear. In fact, he wasn't even supposed to be whispering naughty things in my ear in the first place!

I turned around to say something, but my brain had failed me. It wouldn't come up with an argument to make it seem like his comment had no effect on me, or at least not the effect that it actually did. So I just stood there stupidly as the triumphant smirk on his face grew wider.

"Doesn't seem like you care either," he smirked. I tried to stare him down, but his gray eyes were too much. I just narrowed my eyes indignantly and turned back around, putting a shrinking charm on my clothes so that I could shove them into my robe pocket. Really, though, I had done so just so he wouldn't be able to see my blushing face.

"Alright, ready?" McGonagall said, jolting me from my thoughts. I nodded. This would take my head out of my stupid heart, or whatever was reacting to Malfoy in the wrong way. I could get back into my comfortable world of studies and schoolwork and being the top student in my class.

The giant doors opened to reveal the Great Hall as McGonagall led Malfoy, myself, and the first years to the front of the hall to the infamous Sorting Chair with the Sorting Hat atop it. I spotted Harry, Ron, and Ginny and smiled at them. I saw them smile back at me before their smiles disappeared at the sight of Malfoy.

Soon, all the first years were lined up behind the chair as Professor McGonagall called them alphabetically by name to be sorted. Exclamations of Gryffindor! And Ravenclaw! as well as Slytherin! and Hufflepuff! All followed by applause and cheers rung throughout the hall. Time seemed to crawl by somewhat slowly, and everything was becoming a blur as I got sleepier. Once the sorting was done, Dumbledore started giving his speech, but I was even more tired than during the long process of sorting. Malfoy and I were standing in a discreet corner of the hall when my head accidentally fell on his shoulder.

"Granger," he whispered, poking me. "Granger, wake up. You cannot fall asleep on my shoulder in the Great Hall."

I snapped up and shook my head, glaring at him. "I would not fall asleep on _your_ shoulder," I said, fully knowing that I had.

"Except you did, stupid," he retorted.

"Yeah, keep dreaming," I countered.

"I wasn't, you were."

"I wasn't sleeping."

"Yes, you were."

"No, I wasn't!" I argued, my voice rising.

"Oh, so you just like to put your head on my shoulder? Is that it?" He retaliated in a hushed voice.

I opened my mouth and closed it. He had got me. Again. I didn't know what to say to him, he had metaphorically pinned me against the wall and I had no means of escape but to accept defeat.

"You are so annoying, Malfoy," I said childishly, crossing my arms. I felt stupid, but that was the best I could come up with at the moment. Ironically, I was almost certain that I would come up with a clever retort a couple of hours from now.

"You know, you'd be kind of cute when you act that way… If you weren't a Mudblood," he said.

"You'd be kind of cute if—Oh, nope, you'd never be cute, my mistake," I said angrily.

"Really? Even if I let you sleep on my shoulder later?" He said, grinning mischievously.

"No. I would never want to use your stupid, stuck-up, self-righteous Malfoy shoulder as a pillow."

The grin disappeared from his lips. "Ever," I added, emphasizing my point, even though I realized that it was bordering on a lie. I felt like maybe that wasn't as unlikely as I thought, but I shook that feeling away.

He stopped talking and turned his attention back to Dumbledore's speech just as everyone was released to dig into the feast. Malfoy walked away as soon as the food appeared, ignoring me, heading off to the Slytherin table. I uncrossed my arms and took a step towards him, but I stopped. I couldn't call out to him in front of everyone, even though I was pretty sure I had hurt his feelings. I felt bad, but I convinced myself that he deserved it; after all, it wasn't like I hadn't been the recipient of his harsh insults for the past five years. I kept my head high and walked over to the Gryffindor table and sat down next to my friends, realizing how hungry I was as I tried to ignore my sleepiness and worry. I hoped that no one noticed the absence of the Head Girl pin and my Gryffindor cloak, but most of all I tried to hide the fact that the dark green sweater was definitely not mine.

"So I see you got that chocolate off your face, Hermione," Ron chuckled.

"Yeah, thanks for telling me, Ron. And you too, Harry, you weren't any less guilty." I grabbed a spoonful of mashed potatoes and put it on my plate.

Harry laughed. "How did you finally get it off?" He asked, taking a chunk out of a chicken leg.

Ginny, who was sitting next to Harry, leaned over. "Yeah, how did you get it off? I saw you in the train and you had it on your face all the way to the Head Cabin," she paused. "Well, I guess that means that Malfoy licked it off, then," she said casually, trying to hide the teasing tone in her voice. Ron almost choked on his pumpkin juice.

"Ginny! Nothing of that sort," I said. I could feel the color flood my face.

"Well, it'll happen eventually, you're going to have to live together," Ginny added with a laugh, capitalizing on the opportunity to tease me.

"Wait," Ron said, an angry glint in his eye. "Malfoy? You have to _live_ with that bloody prat?" Harry looked just as surprised.

"Are you going to be alright? With him?" He asked, apprehensive.

I sighed heavily, holding my goblet of pumpkin juice.

"Yes, I'll be fine," I said. "He's not that bad, anyway… I hope." I thought of telling them what happened with the boat.

" 'He's not that bad'? Are you crazy? He's the most annoying, bloody little git I've ever met and if I get my hands on him I swear to God—"

I decided against telling; it obviously wouldn't slide with them.

"Ron, calm down," Harry said. "Listen, if there's ever any trouble, you tell us, okay?"

I nodded and forced a smile as everyone went back to their food. I turned around to look at the Slytherin table for Malfoy and found him talking with his friends Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle. He refused to look at me, even though I knew he was aware that I was looking at him. And throughout the entire feast, whenever I looked at him, he didn't look back.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The feast was over, and all the students were going to their dormitories. I didn't get to go with my Gryffindor friends, however; I had to find the Prefect dorm. And I had no clue where it was.

I just kept wandering around, in no specific direction; too tired to care or look where I was going. After a while, I sat down on a carpeted staircase the same color as the velvet benches in the train and sighed.

"Damn it," I swore. "Malfoy, where are you when I actually need you?"

After a minute of sitting on the staircase trying to decide where to try next and cursing Malfoy for leaving me and myself for not looking it up, I heard a voice from a floor above me.

"Did you say you needed me?"

I looked up and saw Draco leaning over the edge of the ornate wooden railing. I smiled weakly. "Yes, I do," I said. "How did you get up there?"

He sighed and nonchalantly looked at his nails. "I walked," he said. "I'm sorry, what was that first thing you said? About needing me or something?"

"Yeah?" I said. "I said that."

"Sorry," he said sarcastically, "But I didn't quite hear you the first time."

I narrowed my eyes. He was toying with me for what I said earlier. This was his payback; he was intending to humiliate me for his own kicks.

"Malfoy, just tell me how to get up there," I hissed.

"Okay," he said. "But first tell me that you need me."

I rubbed my temples. "But I already said that!"

"I didn't hear you."

"Fine," I huffed. "I need you," I said flippantly.

He looked down at me angrily. "That didn't sound very sincere," he said.

I felt like I was going to rip my hair out.

"I need you," I repeated, getting more annoyed by the second. The butterflies were coming back, slowly but surely, every time I had to say that.

"Better," he said, as if he were a connoisseur of wine. "But you didn't say my name. I think you should put my name in that sentence."

"Malfoy!"

"Very good, Granger. That's my name." He chuckled. "Now say the whole thing.'"

"I need you, Malfoy," I said through gritted teeth.

"But Granger," he whined. "That's my last name. Come on, use my first name instead. It sounds so much better." He rested his chin on his elbow, looking down at me and smiling slightly like he was that stupid Muggle Juliet from Shakespeare's most famous play. If I were Romeo, I would've thrown a rock at his face.

My heart was beating fast, and I could feel my cheeks get hot. I felt like my stomach had flipped upside-down and my skin was tingling, but I took a deep breath. He wanted to play King of Spades? Fine. Two could play at this game. I would just have to be the Queen of Hearts and melt him into nothing more than a pawn. Even though I really wanted to throttle him I would have to play nice to get out of this one.

I took off my cloak and let it fall to the ground so that I was wearing just his sweater and my uniform skirt. His sweater, which was too big for me, made a low neckline and the sleeves were too long, causing one side to fall off my right shoulder. I looked up with the most loving look I could produce (which, for some reason, I found not all that difficult), batting my eyelashes and bringing my hand up to my heart, the long sleeve falling over my fingers.

"I need you, Draco."

He stared at me for what must have been an eternity, completely frozen. First I thought he was going to fall off the edge, then I speculated that he had been petrified by a body-bind curse or something. Then I saw his cheeks turn red as he moved his hand from his chin to over his mouth and looked away.

"I—" He started, but didn't finish. "I guess that was acceptable," he said at long last. He looked like he was going to say something else, but he looked back down at me and stopped himself. Then he disappeared from the railing.

I had obviously won this round. I had produced a response from him that probably nobody has ever been able to do before. I was the Queen of Hearts, and I had just defeated the King of Spades. And I thought I was horrible at this seduction stuff! I let myself smile triumphantly for a moment at my little victory. Then I realized that even though I won, he had disappeared and left me with no way of getting up there.

"Malfoy!" I yelled. "Get back here!" I waited. Still no sign of him. Those damn butterflies that I had earlier felt like they had just transmogrified into a bunch of grenades threatening to explode.

I angrily picked up my cloak and started running up the nearest staircase, then the next; whichever staircase I came across that went up, I took it. I must've taken almost all the staircases in the school when I stopped to take a breather on the railing, looking up as I put my cloak back on. My tiredness would have to wait for a little bit longer. After I hexed Malfoy like hell, I would be able to sleep happily.

I kept running up the stairs, determined to catch him. I thought that I must've been getting closer to my destination by now, judging from my lungs, it felt as if I had been going up for ages. As the staircase started to shift, as many of them do, I rounded the corner at the top of the landing straight into Malfoy.

"There you are!" I yelled angrily. "Too bad you couldn't run away from me, huh? After you—you—" I jabbed my finger in his chest, but I couldn't muster up the rest of that sentence. I was not about to give him the satisfaction of admitting that he had gotten me to say what I did.

"W-what? I was trying to find you," he said, confused. "What, did you think I just ran off?"

"Well, yeah, you didn't really say anything before you ran away." I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrow. "Usually people say things. With words. In sentences."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah I did, you just weren't listening."

"What did you say?"

"I said 'That was acceptable'."

I groaned. "That has nothing to do with running off."

"I didn't even 'run off,' I just came to get you," he argued. "And that meant that I accepted your… Proposition and came to get you. What else?" He said coolly. He was so good at pretending that nothing affected him; why couldn't I do that?

"And I was magically supposed to know this?" I said, my voice slowly rising.

"Oh, I don't know, I just thought that you were the smartest girl in our grade, I thought you could put two and two together."

"Malfoy," I hissed, "That was not a very obvious connection. I assumed that you had gotten what you wanted from me and left me there."

He smirked. "Well, I guess that's half-right. I did get what I wanted," he said, smiling devilishly.

I could feel my face getting hot., but I didn't let it show. It looked like I was going to have to deal with these kinds of obscene comments and innuendos for the rest of the year.

"You should've just told me in the first place instead of making me take off my clothes and 'seduce' you into helping me!" I shouted.

"Excuse you? You didn't take off anything except the cloak. Imagine how disappointing that was for me, when I was expecting so much more than just that," he said, trying to sound dismayed, but his face said otherwise.

I was about to say something about him being a perverted little ferret, but at that moment the staircase shifted quite abruptly under my feet, the movement knocking me off balance, sending me straight into him, just like on the train. And, just like on the train, he caught me as if he had been waiting for that to happen.

Instead of standing back up, like I should have, I found myself turning my head towards his chest. He smelled like sandalwood and pine, with a hint of something sweet, like apples. I realized that I had never been so intoxicated by someone's scent; for some reason, Draco Malfoy just became the most attractive boy I had ever met. His scent was like a drug to me, and I involuntarily snuggled up close to him. Soon, the smell of pine and apples enveloped me and I didn't even hear what he was saying.

"Granger!"

Finally, I snapped out of my reverie and looked up at him, noticing that his hand was on my hip. He had the most confused look on his face that slowly turned into the usual sneer upon seeing me turn red.

"You know, if you want a quickie when we get back to the dormitory room, you can just ask," he sniggered. "Because that's the impression I'm getting. You seem so _eager_ to take off your clothes and get under mine."

I opened my mouth in disbelief and gasped, getting back to my senses and pushing him away, trying to control the color flooding my face. There was no way in hell that he was going to turn everything in the last half an hour against me just like that in a manner of minutes.

"How dare you!" I scoffed. "Don't you dare make those kinds of remarks at me. You have no idea what Ron would do to you if he heard that."

Draco's sneer turned from playful to, frankly, disgusted. I couldn't help but wonder how he had so many different smirks and sneers in his repertoire.

"Oh, I have an idea. I think he'd probably just start throwing up slugs. That's what'll happen if he gets anywhere near me," he spat, turning on his heel and heading down the corridor. I followed him.

"Was that a direct threat, Malfoy? Because if it was, then you might as well be threatening me." I could feel my anger rising. Ron was one of my best friends, and I hated it when anyone spoke ill of my friends.

Malfoy stopped. I looked at him, then at where he was looking. We were stopped in front of a large painting of a wealthy looking lady on a chair next to a small table with cups of tea and cookies. She glanced at us and picked up the tea, taking a sip.

"Head Boy and Girl, yes?" She said in an unusually high voice. I nodded.

"Wonderful," she said, setting down the tea. "Password?"

I turned to Malfoy. He put his hands in his pockets casually.

"_Semper fidelis_," he said, and the portrait swung open. I recognized the Latin for "Loyalty Always". He walked in without looking back.

I clenched my fists. Was he ignoring me to irritate me? Because if that was his intention, then he was definitely succeeding. As I was about to walk in, the portrait closed a little so that I got a clear view of the lady on the front. She was young, blonde, and she held a hand up to her mouth.

"He's a piece of work, isn't he?" She whispered. I couldn't help but smile.

"Definitely is," I sighed, rolling my eyes. "He has a superiority complex or something, he always has to feel like he's better than me by—"

"No, darling, that's not what I meant," she said. "I meant he's quite the handsome one. Don't tell me you haven't noticed."

I paused and thought it over. I had never really seen him as anyone else except a nuisance, and a mean one at that. Suddenly I had the urge to look him over to judge for myself, as I never really paid such attention before. At least I knew that he smelled amazing. In the end, I chose denial as the best option, shaking any stray thoughts from my mind.

"Thing is, he's such a… I just haven't noticed because he's so annoying most of the time."

She giggled and put down her tea.

"Sure," she said facetiously. "Night," she added and swung open the portrait.

It opened, and there was Malfoy standing there with his usual smirk. I was very glad that I hadn't said anything about how he smelled or how attractive he was to the lady in the painting, otherwise I would have a lot of explaining to do.

"What?" I said casually as I stepped in, nudging him aside. I looked up and gasped.

The common room, if that's what it was called, was gorgeous. The hardwood floors were shiny and dark, probably ebony, with rugs placed in all the perfect places. Two couches were positioned by the fire on the right side of the room, one with a desk attachment on one side (which made me smile, it would be perfect for studying) with a brass coffee table in-between. There was a sink and a small kitchen off to the left hand side, plus lots of extra space and bookshelves. There were two staircases in the center of the far wall, both leading up to separate rooms. In the middle of the staircases was a large door, which I guessed was the bathroom. This place was beautiful beyond anything I had ever imagined.

"I'll take the one on the right," Malfoy said, walking around the room with his hands in his pockets.

"Whatever," I shrugged. I didn't care. I could even sleep in the common room. Before he could say anything, I ran over to the spiral staircase, eager to see the bedrooms. As I started climbing, I swore that I heard him laugh. I stopped for a moment before continuing up, ignoring what I thought I heard. I got to the landing and threw open the door.

I could feel a smile dawning on my face as I took in the sight of what was to be my room for at least this year. It was a cozy size, not too small and not too big. The carpet was a neutral honey color that complimented a red wall. The four-poster bed was covered with a white comforter and numerous pillows, which looked incredibly inviting. I could go collapse later, as soon as I looked around a bit more.

I found a closet, a chest, and a vanity, even though I would probably just use it for stacking books on instead of for putting on makeup. I opened a door and found a bathroom with pretty light blue tiles on the walls and a marble counter. As I was admiring the room, my thoughts flew back to that big door downstairs. What was behind it? Surely it wasn't another bathroom. That could wait until tomorrow.

I sighed and looked in the mirror. The little bit of mascara that I had applied before I left home was gone, probably because of the little incident of falling in the lake. I frowned. I still had no explanation to what had happened with Malfoy; he was calling me a Mudblood one moment, saving my life the next, and then calling me a Mudblood again. I was utterly confused by his actions, and I could feel an itch at the back of my mind urging me to get to the bottom of what was going on. Malfoy couldn't be a hundred percent horrible, Muggle-hating pureblood supremist if he had done that, but then he went and hid it upon believing that what he did was a secret to me. Whatever he was hiding, I had to find out. I twisted the hem of the green sweater in my fingertips.

Wait a minute. This wasn't mine. This was _his_.

I contemplated taking it off and giving it back to him, but for some reason I stopped. He was probably asleep by now, which meant he didn't want to be disturbed. Taking it back would just mean more trouble for both of us.

I knew that I was just making up excuses so that I could keep it a bit longer, but I didn't know why. Malfoy wasn't nice; he was bloody mean. Besides the fact that he smelled amazing, there wasn't really anything that made him appealing. Except for the fact that he was tall, and strong, and…

"Shut the hell up," I groaned aloud, irritated at my consciousness for even thinking that way. I was just exhausted, that was no lie. In the morning, all these fuzzy feelings of attractions would vanish. Strange things go through your mind when you're tired.

I stretched and walked out of the bathroom, flopping down on the bed, my long brown hair flying around me, covering the comforter like a lion's mane. Groggily I kicked off my socks and skirt before climbing into bed, sighing happily at the feeling of the clean sheets and down pillows. I realized that I was still wearing Malfoy's sweater, but I didn't bother taking it off before I went to sleep. I told myself that I was too tired, but I knew that I could've just taken it off without getting up. I knew that the reason I kept it on was because of the scent that filled my senses, reminding me of Draco Malfoy, my new, and very paradoxical, Head Boy.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I awoke with a deep dislike for alarm clocks.

Usually I can wake up by myself, naturally, but sometimes I sleep through my normal schedule when I stayed up late to the point of exhaustion the night before. On most occasions, I wake up before the alarm and turn it off before it can shriek its horrific sound. Sometimes, I fail to wake up nicely and instead get jarred into an angry consciousness by the evil alarm from hell (which, in fact, I dubbed Hellboy). This was one of those times.

I almost smashed the clock with my fist as I looked at the time. 6:30 am. I forgot to set the clock last night to the usual 7:30; as a result, I was now up an entire hour earlier. I resisted the urge to throw it out the window as I kicked my legs over the edge of the bed—it wasn't like I could fall back asleep anyways.

I decided to take a shower, using the extra time to my advantage. When I came back out, the dark green sweater was still there on the bed from when I took it off before showering. I was tempted to put it on again and go downstairs, but I left it there as I pulled on a comfy pair of jeans and a simple white T-shirt, my long wet hair hanging down to the small of my back. I grabbed my wand from beside the bed and left the room. As I made my way down the stairs, I wondered if the little kitchen had any coffee. Surely there would be something there for a small snack if they had even bothered to install a kitchen.

As my foot hit the last stair, the fireplace lit up into a subtle flame, casting some light around the room, making up for the lack of sunlight from the cloudy weather. I went over to the kitchen and looked through the shelves. Jam, honey, bread, and coffee: everything for a small morning snack. I smiled, betting that Dumbledore was behind this arrangement.

I pulled the coffee out of the cupboard and started the coffee machine with a wave of my wand. I didn't know much about magical cooking, but from watching Mrs. Weasley I had figured out a little bit of the fundamentals. I had got the coffee going well so that soon a nice, brisk scent filled the room. I hadn't even bothered to check the label of the coffee, but from the scent I could tell that it was going to be hearty, full, and dark. I hoped that there was some cream and sugar somewhere, but upon searching I couldn't find any. I guess I'll just have tough this one and take it black.

"Granger?"

I turned around to see an extremely groggy Malfoy plodding down the stairs, rubbing his eyes, his hair askew. His shirt and green pajama bottoms were messy and had all kinds of creases in them. Like this, he looked… Cute, not the usual sharp Malfoy I was used to seeing. This one was softer around the edges, and I liked it.

"Morning, Malfoy," I said, turning back to the coffee.

"Why're you up so early? The damn smell of coffee woke me up, I can't sleep with caffeine in the air," he groaned.

I brought down two mugs from a cupboard and filled them. "Just shut up and drink your coffee," I said, handing him one.

His face twisted a little, and I was suddenly afraid that he was going to knock the mug out of my hand and curse me for being so harsh. Then he blinked twice, took the mug, and had a sip. I let out a small sigh.

"French roast," he said. I looked up, then at the label on the package. Sure enough, it was French roast.

"How did you know?" I leaned against the sink counter, intrigued.

"I would know this anywhere, it's the only kind I drink," he said, taking another sip. "I should've recognized it from the smell, but I guess I was too sleepy."

"You still look pretty sleepy to me," I said, smiling.

He turned away and mumbled something incoherent and sat down on the sofa, holding his mug close, looking at nothing in particular. I went over and sat down on the other couch facing him, my elbow resting on the carved wood arm of the sofa.

I realized with a start how normal this situation was. He came downstairs, I handed him a mug of coffee, we made a little small talk and then we sat down together. It was almost like we were a married couple, just enjoying a regular morning together over coffee. Suddenly I could envision us together, each wearing a gold band on our ring fingers, smiling at each other over the tops of our steaming mugs, sharing a kiss…

"Granger!"

I jumped at the sound of his voice and shook my head. Where had those thoughts come from? I suppose that if it were Ron, I would have drifted off all the same. Even though I knew that he didn't like coffee all that much, unless it was filled with caramel syrup, cream, and lots of sugar.

"Hm?" I met Malfoy's eyes, awaiting his statement.

He looked at me for a second, then at my mug. "How's your coffee? You haven't even had any yet."

I peered into my mug. He was right, I hadn't had any yet. For some reason, the brown-black liquid seemed a bit intimidating. I felt like if I took a sip, I would be diving into something new and life altering. I shook my thoughts away and took a drink, the steam circling around my cheeks.

"Well?" Malfoy said expectantly, rubbing his eyes.

It wasn't as bitter as I had expected. Instead, it was a bit sweeter than I had originally imagined. I looked up and saw him staring at me, waiting.

"I like it," I admitted. What else could I say?

"I'm glad you do," he said, smiling slightly.

My heart leapt in my chest. I quickly turned my eyes back to my coffee and awkwardly took another sip. All it took was a little, genuine smile, and my head was spinning. I told myself that it was because he smiled, not smirked, for the first time, and that it was just so surprising. I ignored the thumping in my chest and stood up.

"It's about, oh, 7:00 right now," I said, avoiding his eyes, but I could feel him looking at me. "I should probably go get ready now, class starts in an hour."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"Really? Since when do you spend an hour to get ready?"

He had me there. It looked like his sleepiness was wearing off, slowly exposing his usual self. I liked him better groggy.

"You wouldn't know!" I said, even though it was a poor argument. I was about to go upstairs when he stopped me.

"Hey, Granger, do you still have my sweater?" He said, kicking his feet out casually. I froze. A part of me really wanted to lie and say that I didn't. I didn't say anything for a long time, trying to pretend that I didn't remember. He stared at me for a good time before speaking up again.

"Or did you give it back before you went to sleep? I can't remember," he added, trying to sound casual. However, I heard the slight hint of a lie in his voice and saw him playing around with the handle on the mug, trying to distract himself. His gray eyes were still locked with mine.

"Yeah," I nodded slowly. "I think I did."

In the silence that followed, there was a mutual, tacit understanding between the two of us; I could feel it. He knew that I still had the sweater but didn't want to give it back, for a reason that I hoped was unknown to him. And in turn, I knew that he was letting me keep his sweater, for I a reason of his that I didn't understand.

I cleared my throat uncomfortably and took another swig of coffee.

"Well," I said. Malfoy looked up.

"Well?" He asked. His gray eyes searched mine for something, but I didn't know what. I couldn't hold the stare and turned away.

"Well, I'll meet you down here in about half an hour," I said quickly. I turned back one more time and smiled awkwardly before going walking upstairs.

Once I was back in my room, I sighed heavily and looked into my coffee. It must be the caffeine that was getting to me, I told myself. I set the coffee down on my bedside table and made my bed.

There really wasn't much for me to do but put on a little bit of makeup, just the usual mascara and colored lip balm. I didn't feel like changing my clothes, there wasn't any point, even though we were allowed to wear whatever we wanted to—as long as we wore our cloaks or some other piece of clothing like a tie or pin that clearly distinguished which house we were from. It was a little chilly outside, so I picked up a Gryffindor jacket from my chest of drawers and pulled it on.

By 7:40, I had stacked all of my books in order, properly set my alarm clock, organized my room in an orderly fashion, and finished my coffee. I felt accomplished, as I had fifteen minutes to get to class and five minutes to prepare. Packing my books in my bag, I realized that I had left the green sweater on the bed. With a quick look around, as if I was doing something wrong, I folded it and put it under my pillow. Then I left to go down stairs as fast as possible.

When I got downstairs, Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. I rolled my eyes, expecting as much, and took out my schedule. First on the list was Potions class. I wanted to gag; that class was less than enjoyable. And it had Malfoy in it too.

I sat down on the couch for a few minutes, waiting for Malfoy. Why was he taking such a long time? I absent-mindedly played with the silver upholstery on the couch, watching the view from the window: a pretty view of the Forbidden Forest, with the fog rolling in from the mountains, stopping short of the tree line and leaving the green grass fields untouched. The sun was barely peeking through the clouds, tracing circles of light on the ground like spotlights.

I checked the clock and noticed that it was 7:45. Grumbling, I got up and walked over to the stairs, looking around the corner. His door was closed. I walked up to his door and knocked.

"Malfoy? It's 7:45," I called in. "We have the first class together, do you want to be late or not?"

I waited a couple of seconds, but still got no answer. I could feel my frustration increasing and pounded on the door. Mid-pound, the big wooden door opened and my fist ended up landing on his chest. I failed to hold back a chortle at the irritated look on his face.

"I heard you the first time, Granger," he said, obviously annoyed. "I could hear your shrill voice through any door."

"Well, you could've said something," I said, crossing my arms and rolling my eyes.

"And next time," he continued, ignoring me, "you don't have to smash your dirty little mudblood fists onto my chest." With that, he strode past me down the stairs.

I bit back my retort—"You should be glad it wasn't your face! Or did you forget third year?"—And angrily huffed, then marched down the stairs after him, tying to ignore the sandal wood aroma that came off him as he walked by. It looked like this was going to be a long day already; his stupid mood swings were so unpredictable. I hoped we were making happy potions in class today; I could slip some into his drink or something to make him more stable. If anyone, he needed it.

Pushing my slightly criminal thoughts aside, I gathered myself and headed for the door, catching it right as it was about to close. I slipped out into the hall.

"You could've just held the door, you know," I said in Malfoy's direction. He shrugged.

"I could've," he said, and started walking towards the dungeons. I rolled my eyes and caught up with him as he headed down a staircase. I looked around, trying to memorize the exact location of our dorms. I was definitely _not_ going to get lost again. I didn't want a repeat of yesterday.

"Sticking close to me, are you, Granger?" I heard him say. I turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, right, Malfoy. Because we're best friends," I mumbled sarcastically.

"Don't say that," he said somewhat sternly. "Just because we're living together does not mean that we are best friends. Or friends in any way, for that matter."

"I guess you're a little slow to pick up on the sarcasm," I retorted. "No surprise there. Like I would want to be friends with you."

Malfoy was about to say something in return, but didn't get the chance. I saw a couple of sixth-year Gryffindors heading down the hall, no doubt all of them on their way to potions as well. Ron was waving at me and shouted from across the hall.

"Hey, Hermione," he called. Harry came out of the group and smiled at me.

I smiled back at them and started to make my way over to them when something caught my sleeve.

"Where do you think you're going?" Malfoy was clutching my left sleeve tightly, looking at me with that mysterious glint in his eye.

"To my friends, Malfoy," I said plainly. "Since you obviously aren't my friend, I thought I'd just go over to people I actually enjoy the company of."

I saw him flinch, just ever so slightly, an almost unnoticeable movement had I not been alert on a regular basis. He regained his composure in a nanosecond and assumed his usual sneer.

"That's not very nice, Granger," he hissed. "But if you want to go with Potty and the Weasel, then be my guest. Poor choice of friends you've got there."

I angrily wrenched my sleeve from his grip and glared at him before I strode off to Harry and Ron, who were already walking my way.

"What was that all about?" Ron asked suspiciously. "What did he grab your jacket for?" He looked past me slightly at Malfoy. I turned around, and I saw him walking at a slow pace towards us—to the potions classroom.

I sighed. "Just being a git and saying I have a 'poor choice of friends,' like usual," I told them.

"One of these days," Harry muttered. "On the Quidditch pitch, I'll make sure he gets a really nice bludger from Fred or George."

Ron snorted and lifted up my left sleeve where Malfoy had been holding. He then blatantly glared at Malfoy, causing me to turn to look too. He was on our right, glaring at Ron with nothing short of loathing. Ron lifted his hand and very deliberately brushed off my sleeve, as if there was dust or something equally undesirable attached to it, still glaring at Malfoy. Malfoy walked by, his jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, his hand on his wand threateningly. Then he turned his attention forward again and kept on walking as if nothing had happened, but I could feel the anger emanating from him as he passed by. Ron continued looking at him, his hand still holding my arm. Harry looked at me, then at Ron, then back at me again, a worried expression on his face. We both knew that if either Ron or Malfoy had said anything remotely insulting, a fight would've broken out and they would have torn each other's throats out.

"Fucking twat," Ron hissed. I released my arm from his grip.

"Ron, that much hate is poisonous," I told him. Harry nodded.

"None of us like him at all, but… Just be careful," he said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Ron just sighed and cracked his knuckles. I had no choice but to nod in agreement, but they obviously didn't know about what had happened at the lake; it's not like I was going to tell them either with the level of discontent between them.

"Yeah, I know," he said. We all turned around and started walking to class. "I just didn't like the way he looked at you."

I looked at Harry for a moment, confused. "Ron, what do you mean?"

"I'm not sure, but when he grabbed your sleeve I noticed something in the way he looked at you. I didn't like it," he said, obviously disgruntled. "You know what, never mind. Once an asshole, always an asshole."

Harry chuckled and I smiled slightly.

"Yeah, true," Harry said. "Come on, let's go, otherwise Slughorn's gonna force us to make Flobberworm soup or something."

We all let out a collective "Yuck" at the thought of something so repulsive and laughed, running off to class like we were bunch of obnoxious first years again.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

We got to the room and sat down right as Slughorn turned around and started class. This wasn't my plan, to come in almost late, but that was Malfoy's fault anyway. If he hadn't taken so long, we would've been here a while ago. We also would not have run into Harry and Ron, and we probably would've been in here alone…

"Miss Granger?"

I snapped to attention. The class was looking at me expectantly, including Professor Slughorn, who was at the front of the room with a quizzical expression.

"I'm sorry professor, I didn't hear you," I said quickly. How had I let my mind wander off like that?

"Yes… Well, I was just taking roll," he said. "Just making sure you were here and not an imposter with a very well crafted Polyjuice Potion."

The class sniggered and I nodded meekly and slunk back into my seat, wishing I was at the back of the class.

"Nice one, Hermione," Ron whispered. "And on the first day too."

"Shut up," I hissed. I pulled out my books and parchment to take my mind off the embarrassment. No sooner than I had brought out my supplies that something poked me on my arm. It was a paper airplane, charmed so that it was floating in midair. I grabbed it and opened it.

_So sleepy you forgot your own name, Granger?_

_Someone didn't have enough coffee._

_From your favourite Head Boy_

I sighed heavily and turned around. Sure enough, Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle, and Marcus Flint were all sitting in a row behind me. Blaise caught my eye and elbowed Malfoy. He turned to look at me and sneered.

I turned back around, took out my quill, and added the word "least" before "favourite Head Boy" and sent it back to him, then tried to turn my attention back to Slughorn and the lecture. I heard a chuckle and the scratch of a quill against parchment before it came back, this time hitting me in the ear.

I opened it with a frustrated groan and read it. This time the message was on the other side.

_You're a horrible liar. Did you think I'd forget about the fact that you were dying to get under my clothes last night?_

I venomously took out my quill and almost ripped through the paper as I scribbled an image of him as a ferret bouncing around the walls; one of my most cherished memories from my fourth year at Hogwarts. I animated it so that little ferret-Malfoy would bounce around the paper, then sent it back and turned around towards the blackboard at the front of the class, barely able to pay attention to what the professor was saying. I realized after listening for a few seconds that I already knew all of what he was talking about, so I stole a glance back at Malfoy and his cronies. Blaise was holding back laughter as he looked at the paper, while the other three were trying to see what was so amusing on the piece of parchment. Malfoy had turned a pinkish color, the usual smirk replaced by an embarrassed frown. Blaise nudged him again and nodded his head towards me, still snickering. They both looked up towards me. Malfoy mouthed the words "_Very funny, mudblood._" I just smiled and turned back around.

"They bothering you, Hermione?" Ron asked, stealing a quick glance back at them, a suspicious look in his eyes.

"No, not at all," I said. I smiled to myself and turned my attention back to the front of the classroom. There was a little war brewing between Malfoy and I, and at the moment, I was ahead.

Potions flew by; I knew everything Slughorn was lecturing on about. It looked like for the first few days, potions class would be relatively simple.

The rest of my schedule wasn't going to be as easy. I had Malfoy in almost all of my classes except for the Art by Magic class and Advanced Muggle Studies—there was no escaping from him, it seemed. No surprise he wasn't taking the latter class, given his Pureblood upbringing and anti-Muggle sentiments.

My next class was Transfiguration, which proved to be more challenging than potions and I actually had to pay attention. The lesson was to transform something inanimate into something animate: in this case, a teakettle into a raccoon. Everything was going well—McGonagall even gave me a compliment and five points to Gryffindor—until a paper airplane hit me in the back of the head. I stopped and grabbed it, looking around for Malfoy, and spotted him near the back of the room with his annoying Slytherin friends. I unfolded the airplane.

_Seems like you're pretty good at transfiguring, Granger. Maybe you could turn Weasley into a little rat for my sake?_

_Your VERY favorite Head Boy_

_P.S. Don't even try to deny that last little bit there._

I sat down at my seat at the table and took out my quill, writing a response.

_Dear my VERY irritating, least favorite Head Boy:_

_Maybe I could turn you into a squeaky little ferret for everyone's sake. Sound good? Turning something inanimate into something animate is today's lesson, after all._

I sent it back. It seemed like this "ferret" thing was going to be a fun joke for the rest of the year. Ron came over and sat down next to me.

"What was that airplane all about? What did he say?"

I was surprised. Usually, Ron missed things like that, but it seemed like he was suddenly more alert than ever before. I pushed my hair behind my ear.

"Oh, it was just something derogatory about you," I admitted. I could tell he was getting angrier by the second and I put my hand on his shoulder. "But don't worry. I kindly reminded him about the little ferret incident third year."

Ron smiled and looked over at Malfoy at the back of the room. I followed his gaze and saw Malfoy crumpling up the paper and throwing it away as Blaise was laughing. It seemed like Malfoy really hated the ferret joke. Ron laughed at patted me on the back.

"Nice one, Hermione," he said happily. "Keep it up and maybe you can get Malfoy to quit Head Boy."

I chuckled lightly and nodded, playing along. Ron started packing up, and I realized that class was over. I began packing up also, but I was a little concerned. Maybe I shouldn't push the ferret thing too much… Because for some reason, I was a tiny bit perturbed—I didn't really want Malfoy to quit Head Boy.

The rest of the day was fine, just like it had been for five years at Hogwarts: classes, break, classes, lunch, and then the final classes at the end of the day. All of my courses with Malfoy were still plagued by irritating paper airplanes, mostly centered around insulting Ron whether he was in that class or not. I found this strange: yes, Ron and Malfoy were never really on friendly terms, but I had a hunch there was something else brewing between them that hadn't been there before. What had I missed? Did Ron, Fred, and George go dungbomb the Malfoy Manor or something?

Apart from the trouble with Malfoy and Co., I found my sixth-year courses intriguing, especially my Muggle Studies class and my Art by Magic course. I had always liked Muggle Studies, but the Art by Magic class was something else. I never knew I actually had any ounce of creativity in me, but it appeared that I had just a small bit. We were learning to manipulate our wands by the use of spells to draw, making ink come out of the tip to create an unparalleled smoothness and clarity. I was terrible at drawing, but the class was still fun, and who knew, maybe I could improve.

I got back to my dorm a little tired and flopped down on the couch, throwing my bag down on the floor. Muggle Studies was my last class, so I had no idea where Malfoy was. I had the feeling that we were supposed to patrol or something and that he should probably be here. I waited for about five minutes, then assumed that he wasn't coming anytime soon. I sighed. Typical Malfoy.

I glanced over at the big wooden doors and realized that I hadn't checked to see what was behind them yet. Maybe it was something I wasn't supposed to see? I contemplated something secret was behind that door that Dumbledore had decided to keep there. Then again, it wasn't like it was well-hidden; in fact, it was in plain sight. If it was in the middle of our dorm, then why would I be forbidden to look inside?

My curiosity got the better of me, and I walked over to the door and knocked on it. I realized that there probably wasn't going to be an answer from the other side—at least there shouldn't be one. I enclosed by fingers around the brass door handle.

"Granger."

I jumped and turned around. Malfoy had just come into the room and was standing at the entrance.

"Malfoy!" I gasped, my hand going to my chest. "Don't do that."

He snickered as he went over to the couch and threw his bag on the ground. "A little jumpy, Granger? You should be," he added.

"Excuse me? What is that supposed to mean?" I said, crossing my arms.

"Excuse you," he said nonchalantly. "C'mon, we have to go on patrol. Or are you shirking your duties already?"

"Oh please, don't even talk to me about being lazy," I rolled my eyes for effect and started for the door. "You coming, or what?"

"Yeah, yeah," he said and stood up, following me out the door. The moment we got out into the hall, he turned the other way and started heading in the opposite direction.

"Malfoy? Where are you going?"

He turned around as if noticing me for the very first time.

"Oh, Granger," he said, a false tone of kindness in his voice. "I'm going this way to patrol the Slytherin common rooms. I'm sure you don't mind."

"Actually, I do," I said harshly. "You're just going there to talk with your friends, not 'patrol' or anything. Do you even take this seriously?"

He smirked. "Of course I do," he said in that same false tone. "Those Slytherins can be trouble, better keep watch on them."

"Well, that's true. The whole lot of them are a bunch of idiots with wands," I countered, returning his smirk.

"Better than you and your Gryffindor friends. A bunch of idiots with wands who think they're doing some kind of world-changing good for everyone," he answered in a steely tone. "Especially that stupid, self-righteous Weasley. The hell does he think he is? Running around thinking he's the most courageous hero in the universe, tagging along with Potter and—"

"Shut the hell up, Malfoy. Just shut up. Don't talk about my friends like that, you prick. It's the first day of school, damnit, and I'm sick of you already." I stormed off in the other direction, fuming. He can do whatever he wants to, I don't even care. Stupid Malfoy. Stupid, rich, conceited, Slytherin Malfoy.

I patrolled by myself for about an hour, without event. Everything was as normal; why shouldn't it be? I ended my patrol by going to the Gryffindor common room, trying to find Harry and Ron, who weren't there. I was halfway down the hall, going back to my dorm, when I heard someone call my name.

"Hey, Hermione!"

Ron and Harry caught up to me and we started talking. As we walked down the hall and then down the stairs, I told them of how irritating Malfoy was and how I couldn't believe I had to live with him for the entire year. It felt good to let out my frustrations to them until we saw Malfoy and his friends in the hall. Ron glared at him, and boy, if looks could kill. Malfoy stared coldly back, returning the glare, and stole a glance at me. His expression was unreadable, and it annoyed me that I couldn't figure it out. It was just a fleeting moment, but it felt like much longer. Ron put his hand on my shoulder.

"If you ever need me to beat the shit out of him, then just—"

"Ron, you're getting too angry too fast," Harry said calmly. "He hasn't even done anything yet."

As they walked me back to my dorm, we talked about happier things and the encounter was seemingly forgotten. Ron, however, still seemed to be holding onto it a little, for reasons unknown. We said goodbye, I did my homework, then went to dinner. It was an uneventful day, like it should be. I did some homework in advance before I went to bed and didn't see Malfoy for the rest of the evening; not like I wanted to anyways. But as I climbed into bed, I heard the sound of a big door closing, a door that wasn't the portrait and one that also wasn't his room door.


	8. Chapter 7

The week went by like any other: the normal Malfoy, being annoying and trying to get my attention, Ron with his hateful glares at him and Harry, as level-headed as usual. Then there was me, knee deep in books and homework and classes like it always has been. Nothing was different; there was no variance.

The only thing that changed was how I interacted with Malfoy. When I would go on patrols, I would always make sure to go alone—the thought of having to drag him around was too much, and his words about my friends still stung slightly. I ignored him in the mornings and went to classes alone.

It had been almost a week and a half since I had yelled at Malfoy when I was in our common room, doing more homework, when he came in through the portrait. I glanced up for a moment and kept working, not expecting anything from him. He had tried to talk to me before, in a friendlier manner than usual, but I would keep the conversations short and choppy for what I thought was to both of our benefit. Apparently, I thought wrong.

"Damnit, Granger!" He yelled out of nowhere. My quill slipped all the way across the parchment mid-sentence, leaving a line of black from one end to the other.

"Malfoy! You just completely messed up my Muggle Arts essay," I whined.

"Muggle Art," he scoffed. "You think I care about your essay on Muggle Art?"

"I wouldn't expect you to, actually," I said, my temper rising. "You and your stupid-"

"Granger, I was kidding," he said, putting his hands up in defense. I stopped. Was he trying to be nice or something?

"Listen, I guess I shouldn't have shouted. It's just… I don't…" He was stuttering. I raised my eyebrow, slightly amused.

"What, Malfoy?"

He gave me a look and finally dropped his bag down on the floor, then walked over to me.

"I hate it that you won't talk to me. It's annoying as hell. Please, just stop acting like you're in a coma or something."

I set down my quill and looked at him. "Do you know why I did that?" I asked.

"Yeah, I guess," he said sheepishly. "I'll just shut up about your friends, okay? If you do the same for mine. I just want to be… civil. I want some kind of agreement here. I mean, we're going to be living here together for a while."

I had to admit, I was taken aback. Here was Malfoy, apologizing (kind of) and asking to compromise. Suddenly, I felt dumb for not being the one to initiate a treaty.

"You're right," I said quietly as I looked down at my feet, some of my hair falling into my face. "I should've—Well, doing what I did was kind of immature," I admitted, tucking a stray curl that had fallen behind my ear. I looked up at him and smiled slightly, putting out my hand.

"Truce?"

He stared at me for a moment, biting his lip. I expected him to cringe at the thought of touching my "Mudblood skin" or whatever it was that those Pureblood idiots thought. Then he stepped forward, so that we were only about a foot away, and took my hand. Our eyes met and I froze. Even though we had stopped shaking, neither of us let go. I couldn't tear my eyes away from his. There was something stirring behind them that I could barely see, but it was also something that I couldn't figure it out. Staring into his gray eyes made me think of the green sweater that I had "borrowed" from him, that first morning over coffee, how he saved my life on the lake…

"But Weasley, I don't know if I'll be able to ever not hate that git," he said jokingly. I let go of his hand and blushed. I must've been holding it too long.

"W-well, I feel the same about Marcus Flint, actually," I said, also trying to ease the atmosphere. Malfoy, to my surprise, nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I actually don't really like him either…" He said and shrugged. Then he nodded his head towards the door. "Patrols?"

I was surprised, but I let myself smile. Maybe this could actually go somewhere good instead of downhill. I stood up and followed him out the door.

Everything went fine, fine as in the usual but better: with arguments that were light-hearted and more like debates than anything else. On top of that, he made an astonishingly little amount of innuendos (a nice surprise as compared to before). I also noticed that he hadn't used the word "Mudblood" to refer to me, not even once.

"So… Why does The Weasel—I mean, Weasley—why is he so protective of you? Whenever he sees me and you even five meters near each other, he always grabs you away from me. It's like I was going to mug you or something," he snorted. I could hear the irritation dripping from his voice.

"I don't know, I guess he's always been a bit like that," I shrugged. I didn't understand why he would care at all about what Ron was doing. "What, are you jealous or something?" I snickered, deciding to tease him a little.

Malfoy rolled his eyes hastily. "P-please, Granger, don't push it," he sputtered. "A truce does _not_ entail me falling in love with you."

I laughed a little and looked away. Of course not, what was I expecting? It wasn't as if I was thinking he would anyway, that was just way too far fetched.

I steered the conversation away from Ron and on to other things, trying to get my mind back on track, trying not to notice how he smelled of apples and spices and pine trees. Once patrols were over, we went to dinner in the Great Hall to our house tables. I sat next to Ron and Harry, both of whom greeted me warmly. The next thing I knew, dinner was done and I was walking back to my dorm. I saw Pansy Parkinson, Marcus Flint, and Theodore Nott in the hallway, hanging around. I checked my watch—the students should be getting back to their rooms eventually.

"Curfew's in about an hour," I reminded them plainly. "Make sure you aren't out after hours, otherwise that's a deduction of ten points for each of you."

Pansy snickered. "Yeah, or what, Mudblood?"

"She'll probably breathe on us or something," Nott sneered. "With her tainted Muggle-born germs."

I ignored them and told them again that being out after hours was punishable. Pansy rolled her eyes and nodded her head, signaling for them to leave. As they passed, Marcus Flint slammed into me and sent me falling onto the ground.

"Ten points from Slytherin for harassing the Head Girl, Flint," I said angrily as I sat up, rubbing my shoulder.

"In your rightful place, Mudblood, wallowing around on the ground," Flint jeered. "You watch yourself, or you're the one that's going to get punished." He leered at me in a disgusting manner, making me shuffle back instinctively. There was something in the way he looked me over that made me shudder.

Before I could even get to my feet, Malfoy had come over to my side out of seemingly nowhere.

"You okay? Did he say anything to you? Flint, I mean."

I looked at him in surprise as I gathered myself and stood up. I saw his hand come out for a second, as if to help me up, but then he put it back by his side again awkwardly. What was getting into him lately? He wasn't really supposed to help me up or ask about my health.

"Well, nothing that different from the usual, I guess," I shrugged. "The usual as in the whole 'Mudblood' stuff that I hear all the time."

Malfoy didn't say anything. He looked away for a moment and then back at me.

"Let's go back to the dorm, I'm tired," he said, stretching. I held back a smile; when he stretched, he looked sleepy, and it reminded me of how cute he looked that one morning many days ago. I shook my thoughts of that image and got back on topic, my usual Head Girl mentality taking over.

"Me too, but we have to go on patrols," I reminded him.

He groaned loudly, like a disgruntled child. "Fine," he said. "Where today?"

I shrugged. "By the library?"

We headed off in that direction, Malfoy with his hands in his pockets, trudging along. On the way, we encountered a few stray students, two of them snogging in the corner and another just wandering around. I told them to get back to their common rooms, but Malfoy just stood there and said nothing. It seemed that he was getting more and more tired by the minute. As we rounded the corner, I saw Ron come out of the library with a book under his arm.

"Hermione!" He said happily, coming over to greet me. Then he saw Malfoy and his expression hardened.

I glanced at Malfoy and saw that he now looked fully awake, as if he had never been sleepy at all. His gray eyes were glaring at Ron.

"So, 'Mione," Ron said, tuning back to me, "what're you doing around here? Came to study with me? If you were, then you're a little late, and you shou—"

"She's Head Girl, she's going on patrols," Malfoy drawled mockingly. "I would've assumed even you could have guessed that."

Ron sneered at Malfoy. "Yeah, I guess so. Otherwise, why the hell would she be walking around with you?"

Malfoy took a step forward and opened his mouth, but I stopped him. "Anyway, Ron, what were you studying for?" I asked, attempting to change the subject.

"Potions. I thought I would try and study ahead a little for once, because you do that all the time so it must be a good idea…" He said a little shyly and shrugged.

I smiled. "That's great of you, Ron," I said sincerely. "If you need help with anything, just tell me."

"Actually," he said, opening the book, "I was a bit confused about this-"

"Curfew's in fifteen minutes, get the hell back to your common room, Weasley," Malfoy commanded. I turned to him, but he was still glaring at Ron with nothing less than hate.

"I was talking to Hermione, not you, ferret," Ron retorted angrily.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for insulting Head Boy," Malfoy sneered. "Now get the hell out of here. You're wasting our time."

"I can talk to her as long as I fucking want. You got a problem with that?" Ron said, stepping closer to him.

"Yeah, actually," Malfoy replied, taking a step towards him in return. They were now about two feet away from each other, glaring daggers I could tell that this could get bad, very soon.

"Well what are you going to do about it? Take away points?" Ron said mockingly.

"I'll do a lot more than that. Whatever it takes for you to shut the fuck up," Malfoy growled venomously.

"Stop it," I demanded, stepping in between them, a hand on each of their chests. "Calm down, you two. Stop fighting."

They stepped away from one another, but continued their hateful stares.

"Ron, you should get back to the Gryffindor common room," I said quietly. "And we should get back anyway, Malfoy."

I could tell that their animosity wasn't going away, so I forcefully pulled Malfoy with me away from Ron. Once we got around the next corner, he shook my hand off from his arm.

"I don't need you to pull me along, Granger," he said angrily. I scoffed.

"Are you sure about that?" I said, turning to him and crossing my arms. "Because I was under the impression that if I didn't pull you away from Ron back there, you would have ripped him apart."

"Well maybe I would have," he retorted.

I sighed. "Don't get mad at me, Malfoy. I'm not getting involved in this."

He said nothing and continued walking, fists still clenched. I didn't understand what was going on between them, but it was obviously going to get vicious fast. It was inevitable that eventually, one of them would snap.

We walked in silence for a little while, and once I assumed that he had calmed down, I spoke up.

"Hey, you still sleepy?"

He turned to me with an unreadable expression on his face, as if he didn't understand what I meant. "Well, not anymore really."

"So you were just pretending earlier?"

He opened his mouth and closed it. "No. I don't pretend."

I raised an eyebrow. "Really, now? I guess you forgot that one time back in third year where the hippogriff slashed you in the arm, and you complained for weeks and weeks that it was the most painful—"

"Alright, alright," he huffed. "So that was one time. Big deal."

I continued to call his bluffs the entire walk back to the dorms, which I enjoyed thoroughly. It seemed that he couldn't quite get around me, which he admitted himself:

"Okay, you got me. Again."

I smiled slightly and said the password. The portrait swung open, and the lady gave me a wink. I rolled my eyes and walked in.

"But only because I'm sleepy," Malfoy added as he walked into the room.

I turned around, a disbelieving expression on my face. "But you-"

Before I could finish, he put up a hand and I stopped. Then he just smiled slyly and went upstairs.

It seems I had forgotten that he wasn't called the Slytherin Prince for nothing.


	9. Chapter 8

I woke up the next day with an interesting thought: maybe, just maybe, this year wouldn't be as hellish as I thought. Maybe Malfoy and I could actually get along. Maybe we wouldn't have to hate each other anymore.

The only problem with this notion was that his loathing for Ron had gotten worse already, if that was even possible—also, the feelings on Ron's side were mutual. They couldn't pass each other in the halls without shooting lasers at one another.

Aside from that, everything was going relatively smoothly: all the classes I had with Malfoy weren't as much of a drag as I expected, and I was enjoying my Art class and my Advanced Muggle Studies class. I had essays all the time, I was given a long reading assignment everyday, and there was a project for at least one class each week. But it's what I love to do and have always loved; I feel at home when I'm working on something, it gives me a strong sense of accomplishment and purpose. Ron doesn't understand that at all, and I doubt a lot of people do, but that doesn't matter. It is my idiosyncrasy, after all, and it always has been.

Anyway, everything was going well. That is, until I walked in to my dorm in the afternoon and found Malfoy's gang of Slytherins camped out in the common room.

"Wha- What the…" I sputtered, surveying the scene. Crabbe and Goyle stared at me stupidly; Blaise glanced up at me with a bored expression; Flint gave me that creepy stare; Nott looked surprised; and Malfoy just smirked.

"Oh, Granger, I might have forgotten to mention that everyone was going to crash in here for a little bit," he said nonchalantly. "I hope it doesn't bother you. I would have told you if it hadn't slipped my mind earlier," he added plainly. I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic of sincere about that last part or not, so I just ignored it.

"Malfoy, you do know that there is a Slytherin common room, don't you? Why did you bring them all here when you could have just gone to visit them there?" I asked, confused.

Before he could answer, Theodore Nott cut in. "What is the Mudblood doing here?"

I actually slapped my forehead with my hand; how stupid was he?

"I would've thought that even you remembered, but I guess I have to remind you that I'm the Head Girl," I said, exasperated. Blaise just snorted in contempt (for me or for Nott, I couldn't tell).

Nott looked like he was about to say something, but held it back; probably a dumb comment that he realized would only make him sound even less intelligent than he already was. I turned my attention back to Malfoy.

"Anyway, I'd like an answer," I said, crossing my arms.

Malfoy looked around for a second before looking back at me again. "I don't know. I don't see anything wrong with having some people over," he said, smirking.

"Some people? You pretty much have the entire Slytherin house in here!" I sighed heavily, heading for the stairs. I was not going to study down here with them hanging around.

"I'll tell you next time beforehand, so you don't get as upset," Malfoy called after me sarcastically. I stuck my head around the corner of the stairs.

"Hopefully there won't even be a next time," I retorted before heading up. As I neared the top, I heard a voice talking about me, and stopped.

"Wow, I can't believe you have to live with her," someone said. "I'd probably jump out a window or something." I rolled my eyes and kept listening.

"Shh, she's not in her room yet," someone else said. I paused for a second, contemplating if I wanted to eavesdrop or not. I decided to listen in. I went up to my door, opened it, and closed it again without entering. They started talking again, and I smirked—that wasn't too hard to trick them.

"Anyway, yeah, I couldn't stand having to be around that Mudblood for such a long time," someone said. He sounded like Nott from the nasal voice.

"Whatever," another person said. I recognized Malfoy's voice, and listened closer. What would he say about me in front of his friends? "I don't really care."

" 'Don't really care'? An entire year?" Crabbe cut in.

"High tolerance level, I guess," a deep voice said—probably Blaise.

"So?" Malfoy said casually.

"So, she's a Mudblood bitch," Nott quipped. _And you're a stupid idiot,_ I mouthed soundlessly.

"If she wasn't, I'd totally fuck her," someone laughed. I cringed at the comment, no doubt made by Flint.

"Hah, you'd fuck her whether or not she was a Mudblood bitch," Nott said, laughing.

"Yeah, you're right," Flint said. There was the sound of a high-five.

"Shut up, Flint," Malfoy said coldly.

"Did you see that ass?" He continued, ignoring Malfoy completely. "I'd tap that."

I wanted to puke; he was such a pervert.

"Shut up," Malfoy said again, not so emotionless this time.

"Hell yeah I did," Nott said, sniggering. There was a slapping noise, followed by more laughter.

"And talk about a pair of nice—"

"I said shut your fucking mouth," Malfoy shouted. The room went silent for a moment at his outburst. I frowned—why would he care about what his friends were saying about me? I was the "Gryffindor Princess," after all, his sworn enemy…

"What, Malfoy?" Flint said a bit nervously. "She your bitch or something?"

"No," Malfoy scoffed.

"Then why're you getting on edge?" Nott asked. "You don't really seem like the one who would care about the Mudblood."

"I don't," Malfoy said, a little unconvincingly. There was another moment of quiet as everyone grew more and more suspicious by the moment. I leaned on the wood wall of the staircase and waited.

"Seems like you do," Flint said. Then he laughed. "Getting protective because she's yours to shag? Am I getting in your territory?"

The others laughed, but Malfoy didn't say anything. Then Blaise changed the topic, and the rest of them followed it, too distracted to remember what had just occurred. I decided that the conversation was over, and I silently retreated to my room. But before I went inside, I noticed that Malfoy still hadn't said anything at all.

The next time I was alone with Malfoy was after supper, when we went on rounds again. As we walked, I wanted to ask him many things, like why he defended me and why he always got so angry at Ron when I was around; but I knew that if I mentioned the former, he would know that I was listening in on his conversations, and if I brought up the latter it would seem like I cared too much (which, maybe I did). I still wanted to know what happened with him on the very first day on the lake—there was something big that he was hiding from me, and I wanted to know what. There was a chance that he wasn't as cold and mean as he seemed.

"Let's go by the library, I want to pick something up," he said. It wasn't a suggestion, so I just shrugged and followed him. In a few minutes, we arrived.

"Just stay here, I won't be long," Malfoy said as I was about to follow him in.

"Why not? It's just the library, nothing life-threatening," I said mockingly.

"Right, like I would put myself in danger for you," he said sarcastically. Without a second glance, he disappeared among the bookshelves.

I sighed and leaned against the wall, waiting. It had been a few minutes already, and he still hadn't found what he was looking for. I decided to walk around a little to pass the time. I heard a couple voices talking, and turned around. To my dismay, Pansy, Nott, and Flint were walking towards me. I was about to remind them that curfew was in an hour or so, but Pansy spoke first.

"Oh, would you look at that, boys? It looks like we have crossed paths with the specimen called the Mudblood," she sneered. They laughed snidely at her remark.

"And it looks like I have crossed paths with the specimens known as the bitch and the idiot," I replied, my brash response fueled by anger. Her smirk disappeared and she stepped closer, so that she was right in front of me. She was a couple inches taller than I was, and she used that to her advantage to try to intimidate me.

"Shut up, you filthy whore," she snarled.

"You're one to talk," I said, trying to make my voice sound as stolid as possible. "You all better be in your dorms by curfew." With that, I turned around to end the discussion. The moment I began walking away, I felt a hand grab by hair and yank it hard. I screamed as she pulled me back around to face her.

"I wasn't quite done," she said nastily. "You think I care? That you're Head Girl, that you can take away points? Go ahead; take away a hundred, for all I care. Go on, you Mudblood bitch."

"Fine," I growled, ready to call her bluff. "One hundred points from Slytherin."

She gasped as I had revealed her lie.

"Great going, Pansy," Nott scoffed angrily. "Way to set us behind!"

Then, out of frustration at making herself look like a fool in front of her friends or out of pure anger and hatred for me, her hand whipped out and connected with my face. There was a loud slap and a sharp pain that made me let out a whimper as I covered my cheek. I wanted to lash out and punch her hard in the face, but I held back; I don't know if it was because I didn't have the heart to hit her back, or because I just wanted to be the better person. Instead, I turned back around to face her, still holding my cheek. Nott looked shocked, but Flint didn't really seem to care at all.

I felt my anger rising rapidly. "Hitting the Head Girl, Parkinson," I spat. "That'll be another-"

"Oh, no, you don't!" She screeched, raising her hand again. I braced for the impact, but it never came.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Parkinson?"

She froze in place, eyes widening like a frightened doe. I glanced behind me at the sound of Malfoy's voice. He was standing directly behind me, with a stone cold expression, but I could tell that his eyes were alight with fury.

"I-um," she stuttered, lowering her hand quickly. "Just teaching the Mudblood a lesson," she huffed as she stuck her nose in the air, trying to appeal to the Mudblood-hating Slytherin that Malfoy was known to be.

"Did you hit her?" He asked sternly.

Pansy opened her mouth, then closed it. "Yeah, I did," she said indignantly. "She deserved it. She had the audacity to take away-"

"McGonagall's office, immediately," Malfoy snarled, cutting her off mid-sentence. "If you aren't there within fifteen minutes, then you'll get an extra month of detention."

She gave him an astonished look, then smiled nervously. "But Draco, she's the Mud-"

"Go. Now," he said venomously. She stared at him for a moment before mumbling something and stomping away towards the Professor's office in a confused huff. He turned to Nott and Flint, who up until then had been watching the scene unfold with expressions of confusion and doubt.

"You two get the hell back to the common room," he said.

"Hey, that was a little harsh, don't you think?" Nott piped up.

"Yeah, it's not like you and Granger here are even friends," Flint said, taking a quick glance at me.

"I said go back to the common room," Malfoy said, leaving no room for questions. They glared at him for a second before stalking off. We watched them go, and when they were out of sight, he turned to me.

"Are you alright?" Malfoy asked. I lowered my hand from my cheek and looked away.

"Yeah, I've had worse," I said casually. He leaned in and touched my cheek softly, his usually controlled expression betraying his concern. Immediately upon contact, my heartbeat hitched and I had to stifle a small gasp. He was close to me, and I could smell that familiar scent of apple, spice, and pine.

"You sure? It sounded painful," he said. "You want to go to the hospital ward or something?"

I laughed a little and moved his hand away. "Oh come on, give me a little credit. I can handle myself," I said jokingly.

I could feel him gazing at me, but I didn't turn to him. Finally, he straightened up and sighed.

"If you say so," he said. "I'm going to McGonagall's office to deal with Parkinson. Don't worry, I won't be gone long enough for you to miss me," he added with a half-smile. I rolled my eyes.

"Right," I said. "I'll go back to the dorms now."

"Wait, can you take this book back for me? Just leave it on the table when you get there," he said, handing me a thick volume. He looked down for a moment and nervously ran his hand through his hair. "… Thanks." With that, he turned on his heel and left.

I looked after him as he walked off. He said "Thanks." As sad as that was, it was a big step in our civil union-I doubt he had ever said that to me ever before. I peered at the book as I headed back to my dormitory. The cover read _Understanding the Reasons People Do What They Do: An Explanation to the Workings of the Human Psyche._ I had to admit, I was slightly impressed by his choice of reading, whether it was for an assignment or not that didn't really matter. I opened it to the first marked page, which was the beginning of a chapter entitled "Prejudice and the Act of Creating the Scapegoat." I flipped to the next one, the heading of which was "Conflict and Societal Struggles." Then I turned to the next marked page, which plainly read, "Love."

I was a little intrigued by the last marked page—surely Malfoy was the one who had placed the reminder there. I sighed; he was so confusing.

I got to the common room and entered, setting the book down on the table like he asked. I was about to go upstairs to the comfort of my bed when I noticed the big doors again, that I still hadn't opened, despite wanting to since the first day of school. I gave in to my urge and went over to the doors and, after a quick look around, opened them.

It was an empty room, about three-quarters the size of the living room. The floor was carpeted with a plushy, emerald-colored material. Across from the door was a giant window, floor to ceiling, with a beautiful view of the grounds and the Forbidden Forest. From the looks of the hinges, the windows could be opened towards the inside. What was this room even for? I had to admit that I was a little disappointed by how ordinary the room was; I was expecting something more interesting, I suppose.

I closed the doors and went upstairs to my room. Whatever that room's purpose was, I didn't know and right now I didn't really care. I fell asleep ten minutes later, with inescapable thoughts of Malfoy on my mind—again. Looks like I wasn't going to be able to get away from him, even in my dreams.


	10. Chapter 9

I managed to survive the next few weeks with only small encounters with Pansy, in which she didn't say anything to me and only once or twice gave me a shove with her shoulder (nothing serious). Ron and Malfoy stumbled into each other a couple times, at least as far as I knew of, and the hate still hadn't disappeared. It was just as bad, if not worse, than it was the first week of school. There was something going on between them—a "man-struggle," as Ginny aptly named it—that was just beyond my comprehension (apparently, it's understandable only by men, as Ginny also informed me). The hardest part of this month, however, wasn't classes (the usual heavy workload, which was no surprise—and no problem, for that matter) or the Slytherins being irritating (though Marcus Flint was giving me disgusting looks, which Ron also noticed), but the issue of what do to with Draco Malfoy. He confused me more than any test question and was more complex than any one of my essay topics. If he were an exam, I would no doubt get a failing score.

The main problem was that I couldn't understand why he was different. By different, I mean being somewhat nice to me instead of treating me like scum. He was supposed to be the mean, snotty Slytherin prince who hated me—not that I really wanted it to be that way, but what could I possibly do about that? It was the role set out for him, and to be his mortal enemy was the role pre-determined for me. Nevertheless, he still made the slightly sexual joke once in a while, and the act of teasing me had not gone away—which, upon a little bit of self-analysis, I found that I didn't really care.

I had also determined that whenever I was around him, in close proximity, my heart would beat faster, I would forget everything, and all I could concentrate on was his intoxicating scent. I don't know what's wrong with me, but the only explanation I could come up with was that I was physically attracted to him: the key word being "physical", not "attracted". Which made some sense, more than the alternative of an emotional attraction; why would I ever be able to like him? Even though he was… getting better, to say the least, I doubt that there would ever be a time where we would be on the terms of such a relationship of that kind.

It was on an afternoon when I was sitting out on a bench with Ron at the beginning of October after our monthly exams were over that the first major confrontation between him and Malfoy occurred. Harry was off with Ginny somewhere, and even though Neville and Luna said they would come hang out with us, they bailed on account of an Astronomy exam to study for (which took place at night). So it turned out to be just Ron and I together, which he sure didn't seem to mind at all.

"Hey, Hermione?"

I turned to him at the sound of my name. He was on the other end of the bench, his back against the armrest and his legs stretched out towards me.

"Yeah?" I asked, uncrossing my legs and then re-crossing them.

"Are you alright? Living with Malfoy, I mean. If there's anything you need me to take care of, then just-"

"Ron," I said, laughing a little. "Don't worry about it. Really, if there was anything wrong I'd tell you."

He relaxed and smiled as a small gust of wind ruffled his red hair. I caught a whiff of his scent, and it smelled of ginger (ha!) and cedar. It was so familiar to me that I hadn't really paid any attention to it before. It smelled good, but for some reason it didn't have the same effect on me that Malfoy's scent did. Immediately, all I could think of was apples and pine and that hint of spice…

As soon as I thought of him, I heard a voice, unmistakably his, call out to me.

"Hey, Granger," he said. I turned around in surprise; he actually sounded somewhat jovial, not the usual emotionless tone he took on. Then he spotted Ron, and his voice changed in an instant. "Oh… I was just wondering, how did your exams go?"

Ron sat up straight upon seeing him and never averted his eyes from the blonde boy. I glanced quickly at Ron before turning my attention back to Malfoy.

"Alright," I said, shrugging. "Though that last problem on the Dark Arts exam, the one about centaurs…"

"I was actually going to ask you about that one too," he said, his tone shifting back again to the one he used around me, as if Ron wasn't there. "That one tripped me up a bit. Good to know that I'm not just stupid," he added with a little grin.

"I don't know about that," Ron muttered loudly. Malfoy glared at him.

"Funny coming from you, Weasley," he said icily. "If anyone should know about stupid-"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Ron snarled, getting to his feet.

"What did you just say to me, Weasel?" Malfoy growled.

Ron circled around the bench so that he was on the same side as Malfoy, eye to eye. "I said shut up. No surprise you didn't get that the first time, with a brain as slow as yours," he snapped.

"I'm guessing that you like the taste of slugs in your throat," Malfoy sneered. "I could shove a few in that idiotic mouth of yours right now if you want."

At that comment, Ron lunged forward and grabbed Malfoy's collar with the viciousness of an angry dog. Malfoy managed to squirm out of his grip and throw him to the ground before preparing to attack Ron.

"Stop! Stop fighting!"

I stood up on the bench, trying to keep them from tearing each other apart and my balance at the same time. The latter, however, I failed at managing, and I could feel myself tumbling forward as my foot got caught in the open back of the wood bench. I let out a small scream as I prepared to catch myself on the cold ground.

Ron scrambled to catch me, but he couldn't get up off of the ground fast enough. Malfoy was quicker, and he caught me around the waist and eased my fall. Before I could smash into the earth, he swept me up into his chest. I looked up at him and saw that he was already looking down at me. He was wearing that pained expression again, the same one that he had on the lake, and there was a turmoil brewing underneath his gray eyes. Again, for what seemed like an eternity, we stared into each other's eyes, forgetting all about Ron and everything that had just happened. I could feel his heart beating through his chest, increasing in speed, as his cheeks turned just the slightest shade of red. The intensity of his gaze was too much, and I had to look away. Instead, I met Ron's glare. Malfoy followed my eyes and realized that we must have looked quite suspicious to Ron.

"I shouldn't have…" Malfoy muttered softly as he released me.

"Yeah, you shouldn't have," Ron snarled. He turned to me angrily, making me wonder how long Malfoy and I had been in each other's arms. "Let's go, Hermione. Unless you want to stay here."

"What are you talking about, Ron?" I said, trying my best to sound incredulous, despite knowing exactly what he was talking about.

"I caught her from falling, Weasel," Malfoy cut in. "Because you obviously weren't going to be fast enough."

"Shut the bloody hell up, Malfoy," Ron countered. He dusted himself off and glared at me. "I'm leaving."

"Ron, wait," I said, grabbing his arm. I noticed that he was a bit scuffed up from being thrown on the ground, and I was about to ask him if he was alright, but he just shook my hand off and walked away. I sighed heavily and turned to Malfoy.

"That was a nice encounter," he said sarcastically as he adjusted his white button down shirt. I saw that his chin was turning a purple-ish colour; he must've been hit when Ron went for his collar. I immediately felt incredibly guilty for causing anyone to get hurt.

"Oh, Malfoy, you have a bruise on your chin," I pointed out. I reached up to check if it was anything serious, and he winced slightly at my touch.

"It's nothing too bad," he said, shrugging. As I was about to remove my hand, he reached up to check the bruise himself and caught my hand in the process. He paused for a moment, meeting my eyes, before he released my fingers and looked away. "Yeah, it'll be a bit of a pain for a day or two. Nothing to worry about."

"Are you sure? We could get it fixed at the-"

"Hey, give me more credit than that," he laughed. I recognized the line I had used back when Pansy had hit me a couple of weeks ago. "I would be worrying more about Weasley than about me."

I let myself smile and toyed with a stray strand of curly brown hair that had fallen over my shoulder. "I guess so. He'll take a while to cool down, but I suppose I can get him to come around again…" I felt bad for making Ron feel angry; I should have been paying closer attention to what I was doing.

"No, that's not what I meant," Malfoy said. I gave him a confused look before he carried on. "I meant that he's probably in a lot more pain than I'm in. Did you see me throw him to the ground? I was surprised he was even able to stand up after something like that," he said, smiling mischievously.

On any other occasion, I would've gotten angry at him for making fun of Ron in what was such a serious situation. But I understood that now, he was trying to ease the tension of what had just happened, he wasn't trying to be mean at all. I also noticed that he was actually smiling, not smirking, for once. It was a welcome change of expression that I thought fit him quite nicely, a genuine show of lightheartedness that I hadn't seen before. I wanted to tell him that he should smile like that more, that it made him look really cute instead of cold, that it lit up his face like the candles on a birthday cake; but I knew that if I said anything like that it would make everything that had progressed between us move backwards. Maybe there would be a time when I could tell him that, but now was not that time.

"I might have to take him to the hospital wing later then, for a broken rib or something," I said, joining in. "But if he's hurt at all, you're dead."

"Aah, don't hurt me," he said, feigning terror. I laughed and punched him lightly in the arm. He pouted at me, clutching where I had hit him. "That wasn't very nice. If you don't mind, I'm heading off to Ms. Pomfrey to get this fixed. Might take me a few days to heal from such a blow like that one."

"Right," I giggled, rolling my eyes. "I'll meet you after dinner." I walked away, with a lot to deal with on my mind and my hands. I decided that I would take care of Ron before I concentrated on anything else.


	11. Chapter 10

"Ron?"

I walked into the Gryffindor common room to find many familiar faces: Seamus, Dean, Lavender, and Parvati, among others. Ron, however, was not among them.

"Hey, have you seen Ron?" I asked Lavender. She had liked Ron for a while, so I expected her to know where he was at all times. She was almost as obsessive as Romilda Vane had been over Harry.

"No," she said, suddenly alert. "Why are you looking for him?"

I had the thought that maybe I shouldn't have asked her. "I just need to talk to him."

"About what?" She pressed.

"About something," I said elusively. She was getting annoying.

"He's upstairs," Dean chimed in, saving me from any further interrogation from the paranoid Lavender Brown.

"Thanks, Dean," I said before I went up to the boy's dormitory.

When I went in, I saw that all of the beds were empty except Ron's. He was lying down, reading something that looked like the Transfiguration textbook.

"Ron? Can I come in?"

He looked over and nodded. I walked over and sat down on his bed.

"What are you reading?" I asked him, just to make sure.

"Transfiguration textbook. I don't get this stuff so well."

"Really?" I said, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice. He must have picked up on it, because he shut the book loudly, sat up, and turned to me with an irritated expression.

"What? Does everyone think I'm stupid or something? At least you and Malfoy do, don't you?"

"Ron, I don't think you're stupid at all! It's just that in the past you haven't really studied as hard, you know? I don't mean that in a bad way, it's just true," I explained. He paused for a second before continuing on in the same frustrated tone.

"Well why him over me? He's such a prick, and yet there you are, all cuddling and shit in his arms like he's your damn boyfriend or something—"

"Ron! Stop it!" I said sternly. I sighed and pushed my hair behind my ear. "Ron, he caught me from falling, alright? Otherwise I would've fallen flat on my face. You're just over thinking everything."

He stayed silent for a moment. "You serious?"

I sighed again and rolled my eyes. "Yes, Ron. You're starting to sound like you would've rather had me break my nose on the ground than have Malfoy save me from falling."

"Okay, I get it," he said, raising a hand. "I wouldn't want that to happen, really. You're much too pretty for that." He grinned at me and lay back down.

I smiled a little and picked up the Transfiguration textbook to distract myself from Ron's compliment. I couldn't tell if he was being genuine or if it was a flirty joke, and it bothered me.

"Well, I should get going," I said, handing him the textbook awkwardly. "Good luck with your studying, and if you need anything then just tell me, okay?"

He nodded and took the book. As I stood up, he grabbed my arm.

"Hey, Hermione?"

"Yeah?"

"Sorry about earlier," he said. I gave him a small smile. "And thanks for coming back for me when I was being a git."

"Of course, Ron," I said, giving him a smile. "See you later, 'kay?" I waved goodbye and closed the door.

I made my way back down to the common room and out the door before Lavender could stop me again with her stupid questions. I found myself taking a roundabout route back to my dorm, wondering what exactly was going on between Malfoy and Ron: Why was Ron always so overprotective and paranoid when I was around Malfoy? And why did Malfoy fight back, when he didn't even have to in the first place? Was all of this stupidity over me, or was I just letting everything get to me?

I got to the dormitory portrait, and as I said the password, the lady paused before letting me through.

"You are Miss Granger, are you not?" She asked me, peering at me over her cup of tea. I nodded. "Well then," she said, setting down the cup, "there's a noisy group of boys in there—Slytherins, all of them. And one of them was talking about you."

That last bit piqued my interest, and I temporarily forgot about how frustrated I was at how Malfoy had just let his friends in again without telling me.

"Really? … Who, exactly?" I asked, almost hoping she would say Malfoy.

"Actually, more than one, really. At first it was just the dark one and that Mister Malfoy," she explained, giving me a wink. I smiled and let her continue, waiting for what she had to tell me. "Blondie said something about how someone—oh, what was his name—Weasel? Was an 'overreacting idiot,' as he put it. He was telling the dark boy about how he was much too protective of you and that Weasel wouldn't let you get close to Blondie at all."

I raised my eyebrow. This was getting quite interesting indeed: Malfoy was complaining to Blaise Zabini about Ron and how he wouldn't let me around him… Something that I wouldn't have thought Malfoy to care about much.

"Interesting," I said.

"Oh yes," she continued. "The dark boy seemed a little suspicious of him, for some reason. I don't know why, I have no idea what goes around here with you students," she shrugged, sipping her tea again. "Anyway, then they went inside, and I didn't catch anything else of what they were saying. But a little while later two more boys came by—knew the password, somehow, have to change that—both tall, but one of them was quite lanky, and the other one had darker hair and was heavier. I didn't really like either of them much at all. They said something about hoping you were inside already, followed by some disgusting… Never mind. You don't want to know."

I grit my teeth. Without a doubt, she was talking about Theodore Nott and Marcus Flint. "I know what you're talking about, sadly," I said, sighing. "They all still in there?" She nodded. "Oh well, I don't really have a choice but to face the music, do I?" I laughed a little, and she daintily waved to me as the portrait swung open.

As she said, there they all were, occupying all of the couches again. Upon seeing me, Malfoy stood up.

"Granger, before you get upset, I didn't plan this," he said, gesturing to everyone. Blaise looked at me and mouthed, "yes he did."

"I think you're a little late for that," I said, crossing my arms. He wasn't lying about that, I was pretty sure, but I had the opportunity to tease him right now and I was going to take it.

"The other two came in on their own," he explained. "Really. I just brought Blaise with me."

"Right," I said. "So you gave them the password?"

He opened his mouth and then closed it. I raised my eyebrow. "So they can get in at any time they want to?"

"Yeah, that's right. Any time I want," Flint said creepily. I just ignored him as best I could, but Malfoy turned to glare at him with something like intense loathing.

"I guess we're going to have to change the password, then," I said practically.

"Yeah, okay," he said. "But Granger, really, I would've told you earlier if I had known they were coming."

I continued to stare at him suspiciously, my arms still crossed.

"You don't believe me, do you?" He said in a vexed tone.

I uncrossed my arms and headed for the stairs. "Nah, I was just messing with you," I said, flashing him a sly smile. He just stared at me as Blaise snorted and Nott snickered. With that, I went up the stairs to my room to finish the pile of work stacked on my vanity before dinner came around.

"Granger?"

I jumped slightly at the sound of my name and turned around. Malfoy was standing in my doorway, his hand on the doorknob.

"Could you knock next time?" I said, pushing my hair out of my face with my right hand.

"I did," he said, a bit confused.

"Oh, sorry," I said quickly. I realized that my room wasn't that orderly at the moment, with books around my feet and some clothes lying around draped over chairs. Worst of all, _that_ green sweater was lying in plain sight on my bed. "Anyway, you came up to…?"

"Right," he said. "Owl just came through the kitchen window. Dumbledore's approved the idea of a Winter Masquerade Ball, and we have to meet with the other Prefects after dinner to organize it."

I frowned. "Winter Ball? I haven't even heard of such a notion."

"Well, now you have. They're thinking sometime in next month, or something," he paused. "And we have to go."

I sighed and got up, checking the clock on the wall. It was just about time for dinner. "I don't really care, it's just a ball," I said. It wasn't like I didn't go to the Yule Ball in fourth year; this wouldn't be any different.

"Together."

I looked up. We had to go… Together? "Wait, who decided that?" I asked, a little frustrated. I hated it when people made decisions without me.

"Everyone else, I guess," he shrugged. I could tell that he felt uncomfortable with either how I had taken the news, or that he had to go with me (of all people). He ran his hand through his light blonde hair, ruffling it so that it was a bit messy—a telltale sign that he was nervous.

"Oh," I said. I waited for a second, thinking it over. "Whatever. I don't really mind," I added, walking past him onto the staircase landing. "You coming? It's dinnertime."

He caught up with me and walked with me down the stairs. "Wait," he said. "You don't mind?"

I laughed a little. "What? It's not a big deal. You aren't so bad anyway," I said, keeping my voice calm. In my mind, I was equally surprised that he wasn't the one complaining about having to go with me.

"I'm not?" He asked with more than a hint of surprise.

"Goodness, no," I said jokingly. "I thought that you would be the one to lose it over having to run around with me at a ball in front of the entire school." I bit my lip in anticipation, slightly scared of what he would say. I expected something along the lines of being aghast at having to carry me on his arm in public; me, the best friend of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.

"I don't have any problem with that," he said quietly as his arm brushed against mine. I let out silent gasp at the contact and looked away anxiously, tucking a brown curl behind my ear. I realized that he was probably waiting for some response, so I nodded quickly. As we neared the portrait, my fingers unintentionally swept past his when I lowered my arm. There was something like a small spark that I could feel travelling up my arm from where we touched. I knew that he had felt it too, and I could sense him looking at me. Against better judgment, I returned his stare. It was just for a fleeting moment, but I felt that he wanted to say something to me; I just couldn't place what. His deep gray eyes were too hard to read, and I broke the gaze before I said something that perhaps I myself was wishing to put into words this whole time.

"Come on, we'll be late for dinner," I said hastily as I pushed open the portrait, eager to leave the confusing atmosphere that we were just stuck in. Malfoy followed me out the door, and soon we were walking together and talking casually as if nothing had happened. But we both knew that we were just hiding something from each other, some feeling that we had yet to reveal—some emotion in me that even I couldn't understand.


	12. Chapter 11

"Thanks everyone for coming," the Hufflepuff Prefect Hannah Abbott said as Malfoy and I entered the room.

"Like we had a choice," he muttered under his breath, taking a seat next to me.

"So, we're here to discuss the Winter Ball coming up," she continued. "First of all, when should this take place? We were thinking November or sometime in December."

"I'd say late November or early December, so that the students who go home for Christmas don't miss it," I said. Everyone nodded in agreement. From that point on, I was in control of the entire meeting.

The assembly was over within about an hour. I had taken complete control of the entire thing from beginning to end, and it sounded like this was going to be a very well organized ball. We decided on many important topics, and had come to an agreement on how this Winter Ball was going to go. It would be formal, dress robes required. Only fourth through seventh years would be allowed to attend. The dance would go from 9 pm to 12 midnight, and everyone would have to leave by 12:30. The Prefects would have to go with each other, that didn't change, but they could dance and mingle with whomever they wanted to after the opening. It would take place in the Great Hall on December 3rd. Everything was put into place, and I couldn't suppress my pride at having taken care of all of it. Now the only problem I had was picking a dress for this party.

After everyone had left the room, Malfoy was still sitting languidly on his chair, looking at me with an amused expression on his face.

"What?" I asked him.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you took over that entire meeting," he said.

"No, you shouldn't really," I said with a smile. "It's kind of what I do."

"Yeah, you take over everything," he said. "I'll bet you're going to be headmaster or something next year. Then we'll all be in trouble."

"Right, says the boy who has his Slytherin army invade the living room," I snorted.

"Whatever you say, Commander Granger," he said sarcastically. I crossed my arms.

"Fine. As your commander, I order you to march with me back to our dorm," I directed him. He stood up, gave me a lazy salute, and marched out the door. I giggled and followed him out into the hallway.

We walked for a couple of minutes, finding a few students running around in the hallway that we told to get back to their dormitories. Then, out of seemingly nowhere:

"You really don't mind going with me to this thing?"

I looked at him in surprise. "Where did that come from?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, running a hand through his hair. "It's just a question."

"I just didn't really expect that to matter to you so much," I uttered.

"I never said it did."

"Then why are you asking?"

He sighed. "Fine, don't answer it then. I just expected you to want to go with Weasley or something."

I thought about it for a moment, and then shook my head. "Not really. I wouldn't have planned on it, I think. He's my really good friend, but not like that." Which was true.

"Oh," he said simply. "I don't think he feels the same way, though."

I frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

Malfoy opened his mouth and closed it wordlessly. "Never mind. It's just… The way he looks at you."

I recognized the exact words that Ron said about Malfoy when they had a run-in with each other. "… I don't really understand what you mean, but Ron said the same thing," I mumbled.

He glanced at me, a slight blush creeping up on his cheeks. "Hah, one thing we have in common, I guess," he said mordantly. "But I don't know what he's talking about," he added quickly.

I just nodded skeptically, trying to put the pieces together. If what Malfoy said was true, then Ron liked me. And if what Ron said was true also, then Malfoy… No way. Ron was just jealous, which wasn't really any surprise anyway—he always got a little protective of me when I was around other guys, like Victor Krum, and sometimes even Harry. And besides, I didn't even really know what they meant by "the way" that they looked at me. It was beyond me at this point—maybe Ginny would have some insight on this.

We walked back to the dorm, making small conversation here and there, avoiding the topic of Ron and the upcoming Ball. We got to the dorm and went upstairs to our respective rooms as usual, but today I was still quite confused about what was going on with Malfoy, Ron and I. I finished the rest of the work I had, then went to sleep, those words still on my mind: "The way he looks at you." What did that even mean?

From the moment I got up, I knew that today I would need some extra strong coffee. I recalled going to sleep at around one in the morning, on some dumb decision to do next week's homework in advance; a notion that seemed like a smart idea at the time. I awoke, stumbled into the shower half-conscious, and went downstairs in just my towel to prepare myself a cup of the strongest, most bitter French roast I could get my hands on. I was aimlessly staring out the kitchen window onto the fields of Hogwarts waiting for the coffee maker to finish when I heard someone clear their throat. I spun around, almost making my towel fall to the floor. I caught it just in time as I turned to Malfoy looking at me with an entertained expression.

"What's so funny?" I snapped at him, tucking my towel in above my chest.

"Nothing at all, just carry on," he said, dragging one of the extra wooden chairs over to face me. He sat down and rested his elbow on his knee, looking at me with a slight smile. "Some of that coffee for me?"

"No," I said, scowling. I couldn't control the blush creeping up on my cheeks; I turned away so that he wouldn't be able to see how much I probably resembled a strawberry or something. "You can make your own."

"Aw come on, Granger," he said in a mock sad tone. "Be nice."

I just snorted and reached for the cupboard. However, I found that when I did so, my towel would slip ever so slightly. This was where being somewhat short did not come in handy. I heard Malfoy laugh at me, but I ignored him. How could I be so stupid as to come down here in just a towel and without my wand?

A moment later, I felt him behind me, his hand on my lower shoulder. He reached up and opened the cupboard with ease, taking out a mug. He smirked at me, holding the mug triumphantly in his hand. I looked down sheepishly and tucked a damp brunette lock behind my ear, partially in defeat but mostly to distract myself from how attractive he looked. And yet I found myself looking right back at him after a second of looking at my feet.

His hair was slightly messy and sticking out at weird angles, but in a way that was hot more than it was awkward. He must have just woken up, and at least he was smart enough to put clothes on, but I could still see a glimpse of his plaid boxers. His gray eyes were filled with mischief, and the corner of his mouth was turned up in a crooked smile. He smelled of clean sheets and pine and apples with only a very slight hint of spiciness; that must be what his natural scent was, right when he rolled out of bed… His entire being was driving me crazy. I had to change the topic before I did something rash.

"So is that for me, or are you just going to hold it there?" I said, glancing at the mug.

"Oh," he said, shaking his head slightly. "Nah, this is for me. You said I had to do it myself, so…"

I huffed and pushed him out of the way, trying to go for the cupboard again. Malfoy stopped me and pushed another mug into my hand.

"Hey, I was just messing with you," he said with a smirk. "But only if you share."

"Fine," I said, rolling my eyes. I took out the coffee pot and poured him half, then filled mine.

"It was the least you could do, anyway," he muttered as he walked away. I whipped around, almost spilling my coffee.

"What was _that_ supposed to mean?" I said suspiciously. He stopped by the stairs and leaned against the railing. As he took a sip of his French roast, he looked me up and down quickly, then made eye contact with me for a moment.

"Nothing," he said simply as he went up the stairs. Before I could say anything, I heard his door close.

I sighed and sipped my coffee. For some reason, the way Malfoy looked me over wasn't creepy, like how Marcus Flint did it, but it was something else… He made me feel differently than anyone else could, and I found that I liked it.

I was about to go upstairs when there was a tapping at the window. I walked over and saw that it was a gray owl with a small scroll attached to its leg. I opened the window and let the owl in as I grabbed a small treat from a jar on the counter. I untied the scroll, gave the owl a treat, and closed the window as it flew away. I opened the scroll.

_To Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy_

_Astronomy classes commence this evening in the astronomy tower. The telescopes are now in working order again, and classes will begin at 9 pm._

_Minerva McGonagall_

I had completely forgotten about astronomy classes; I had signed up at the beginning of the year, but the telescopes weren't working and the teacher was still on vacation until the end of September. I guess everything was back to normal now. I decided to go up to my room first and get changed (I wasn't about to go to Malfoy's room in nothing but a towel) before I told him the news. Once I had pulled on a red long sleeve shirt, my favorite pair of jeans, my robe and a scarf, I headed downstairs. My hair was still slightly damp, but I used a drying spell and it was back to its normal curliness.

Malfoy wasn't down yet, so I went up to his room and knocked twice. No response. I knocked again, just to be sure, and then I proceeded to open the door. I was met with an intriguing scene.

Malfoy was half-dressed, in a button down and his plaid boxers, sitting on his bed trying to get his socks on. I had never realized how toned he was, and I couldn't help but ogle his firm muscles and toned body. I stared at him for a moment, frozen. I couldn't tell if I was glad I had opened the door or not. Other than that, he had a nice room, with a predominant theme of green and black.

"Need something, Granger? Came in here to help me get changed?" He said with a sly grin. I felt my face grow hot.

"Of course not! I would expect you to at least be able to get changed yourself," I huffed.

"So you were here to join me in the shower? Sorry, maybe next time," he said devilishly. I groaned and crossed my arms.

"Anyway, I didn't come up here to join you in the shower or anything like that," I said, trying to get back on topic. He raised his eyebrow suggestively as he put on his other sock. I continued, doing my best to ignore him. "Astronomy classes start today at 9 in the evening. I guess you enrolled in it too, because the letter had your name on it."

Malfoy pulled on his jeans and grabbed a belt. "Damn. I was hoping to get some sleep tonight, but I guess not," he sighed, buckling the belt. "You ready to go now? Had enough of watching me change?"

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "I'll just make sure to knock a million times next time I want to come in."

"Doesn't mean I'll answer," he said with a smirk, grabbing his school bag. I just groaned and headed downstairs.

"Do you want to be late for potions or not?" I said. In a moment he was at my side, literally pushing me out the door with his hand on the small of my back. "Malfoy, I can walk on my own!" I exclaimed, my face turning pink.

"Just making sure you could move. You seemed like you would have a hard time getting back to normal after staring at me for so long," he said with a smile. "Am I really that dashing? I would never have guessed."

"You underestimate yourself, then," I said as I picked up my pace. Two could play at this game.

Malfoy faltered for a moment before catching up with me. "Wait a minute," he said. "Was that a compliment?"

I hooked my hands behind my back and shrugged. "Well… Maybe," I said with a crafty smile.

The corners of his mouth turned up in a cute grin, his eyes twinkling as he looked down at me. I couldn't help but return the expression; he looked so adorable when he smiled like that. I blushed and looked down for a moment, reaching to push a strand of hair behind my ear like I always did on occasions like this. Before I could, I felt Malfoy's fingertips brush against my face, tucking away the curl before I could. I slowed to a stop, and soon we were standing so close that I could smell his tantalizing scent again. His hand lingered by my ear, his thumb lightly brushing my skin. He looked like he wanted to say something, but something was holding him back. There was a sound from down the hall, and he broke the stare to look over.

"C'mon, you're going to make us late just standing there," he said as he pushed by lower back gently forward. I snapped out of my trance and resumed walking just as a crowd of Gryffindors followed by Slytherins passed by. Ron and Harry spotted me and yelled a greeting. Malfoy quickly lowered his hand from my back, but not before escaping Ron's notice. His eyes narrowed and he glared at Malfoy intently.

"Morning Ron, Harry," I said cheerfully. Harry smiled at me, with a quick wayward glance at Malfoy.

"Hey, Hermione," Ron said in a controlled voice. He paused for a moment. "Could you help me with something before class? I didn't really understand what we were supposed to do on part of the homework, and I want to get it done before class starts…"

"Oh, yeah, sure," I said. "You remember what it was? I could just—"

"No, I don't," he said quickly. "But I have it with me. Can we just go grab a seat in the Great Hall?"

I gave him a strange look and shrugged. Malfoy snickered and Ron turned to him threateningly.

"Of course," he added snidely, "If Malfoy here doesn't mind you leaving. He seems to think that he owns you or something."

"Weasley, just shut up and go finish your homework. Granger, I won't keep you any longer, since it looks like your brains are needed for someone who lacks them," Malfoy sneered condescendingly. Before Ron could retort, Malfoy walked away to join the crowd.

"Come on, Ron, let's just go," Harry said before things could go sour. Ron just growled something to himself before walking away with us to the Great Hall.


End file.
